Another Step on the Path
by nick48654
Summary: Nick and Judy find their relationship maturing while investigating a truly unpleasant side of Zootopia's underworld. It's not crimes against property this time - it's crimes against persons.
1. Chapter 1

ANOTHER STEP ON THE PATH Chapter 1: Truth

"Eat your sundae, Judy. Just remember that you'll have to jog another ten or fifteen miles to make up for the caloric intake," Nick said.

Judy glared at the fox. "You lost the bet, you pay for my dessert. And I chose the strawberry sundae. Grin and bear it, foxie boy."

"If I'd known a bit more about you **_before_** I made that bet…"

The rabbit grinned and struck a pose. "It's called a hustle, sweetheart," she said, then giggled. "Besides, it's not as though I won't share. You can always get a second spoon and join me."

"No thanks, I'll just stick with my catnip tea, thank you."

"Now the other half of your debt…"

"Four. And the last one was nine years ago."

"Nine years ago? You'd have been…"

"As old as you were when we met."

"Ok, name them."

"Must I?"

"You bet a sundae and full disclosure. Unless you'd like to go back on the 'honesty' deal we made."

"There are some matters that should remain … 'classified', Carrots."

"This could be covered under 'for official use only', don't you think?"

"You never give up, do you, Carrots?"

"When I'm hot on a case, no."

"Even when the 'case' is me?"

"Especially when the 'case' is you, Nick. Right now, after my Dad's 'little' stunt and our subsequent argument, I haven't got much else to focus my 'off duty' time on."

"I didn't mean for you to break with your family, Judy. I know how much they mean … err … meant … to you," Nick said, his ears flattening slightly.

"Telling you that mom and I died during the outbreak? I'd think you'd be the last person willing to forgive him for that."

"It's not how I feel about the matter – it's how much he, and your mother, mean to you that's important…"

"Stop. You are more important to me right now than my parents. And if Dad can't handle the idea of me getting 'involved' with a member of a different species, well…he can take a flying leap at a rolling donut."

"As I understand it, you're the only one to do that. For which I am most grateful," Nick said, his ears moving to a more relaxed position.

"That reminds me – I have to call Fru-Fru and find out how her daughter is doing."

"Helps to have friends in high – and low – places."

"Amen to that, Nick. And you can thank your lucky stars that I had that connection."

"Or we would **_both_** have been iced – I haven't forgotten."

"Have you forgotten the second half of our bet?"

"That's not fair, Carrots. You knew you didn't so much as date a single buck rabbit in high school or college."

"And you thought I was **_much_** more popular than I was."

"The way **_you_** look? There must have been a large number of dumb bunnies – all male – out there if they ignored you. You showed me photos of you in High School – and when you were at that Ag College. You were one **_hot_** bunny doe."

"You aren't that bad yourself, now."

Nick sighed. "A bet's a bet. Number one was in High School. I had a crush on her, she was … well … she was a cheerleader and bright as a whip, not to mention being a … very hot … looking vixen. She liked me, but she liked money a bit more."

"It did not end well?"

"No, it did not. At least, not for me. There was an older tod that Karen Winters met when she went to college. He managed a hedge fund at BlackFox International."

"And you were just at the chicken stealing level."

"Whereas any chickens he stole, he stole the whole farm to get. His name was James Wilber Foxworth."

"And you learned this, how?"

"She invited me to dinner at their home after she married him. She didn't bother to tell me that she was married – I was caught rather flat footed. She was showing off her success, and rubbing my nose in it."

"Still a bit angry about it?"

"Only a little. The best revenge is living well and I am a firm believer in the river theory of revenge."

"Oh, what is that?"

"If you sit by the river long enough, you will live to watch your enemies float by … face down." Nick grinned a feral grin. "I'll forgive anyone, once I've seen them twisting, slowly twisting in the wind."

"Have you kept in touch?"

"No. I haven't seen or spoken to her in … at least ten years. She sent me a note when she went off to get her nursing degree – I didn't keep the note, and I never replied. Number two was someone I met when I was at Junior College."

"I didn't know you got a degree…"

"I didn't. There were some cute vixens at J.C. Think of it as high school with ash trays. I went there to go fox hunting – every day. Female foxes. One of whom was Harriet Richardson. And … well … she kept her tail up and to one side. That was rather important to me at the time but the side effects of that attitude … well."

Judy grinned past another mouthful of ice cream and syrup. "Meaning? I could baffle you with bunny burrow country slang – so …"

"Think about it, bunbun. 'Up and to one side'. What does that expose?"

"Euphemisms, Nick? I thought you were going to be completely honest."

"Honest doesn't mean diving into the gutter."

"As in, 'get out of the gutter, you're blocking my snorkel'. Ok, I'll let it pass. Did you keep in touch with her?"

"No. We broke things off by mutual consent. I believed – and still do – in monogamy. She didn't. Flirting is one thing, but …"

"Number three?"

"Number three was Janet Louise Stewart. That lasted all of six months, eleven years ago. She was a stripper, and, well, I couldn't really handle _her_ ideas on relationships either. Number four was Katrina Ivanov – she was the cutest arctic fox I ever saw. Blue eyes, a snow white coat, and a scent with range and striking power – drove right into the pleasure centers in the midbrain – and, sadly, she had a heart as cold as a Tundratown ice cube. I was a good enough lover, until someone better – and richer – came along." Nick sighed and shook his head from side to side. "We parted ways and that was the last vixen I was involved with."

"Darn. If it weren't for bad luck, you'd have had no luck at all in your love life."

"Actually, Carrots, I think I've had pretty good luck. You've heard the Ratful Flatts song, **_Bless the Broken Road_** _?_ "

"Is that the one that ends ' _That God blessed the broken road, That led me straight to you._ '?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Nick. That's incredibly sweet!"

"Sweets for the sweet, Fluffy. Sweets for the sweet."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Speak of the Devil

Nick sat with his back to the wall sipping on his tea. It had been a good night, despite losing his bet with Judy. _How could I have known that she was so focused as to have never had a boyfriend while in school? It just didn't stand to reason. It's a good thing that I didn't bet more than a sundae and an answer to an honest question._ He shook his head, as if to clear it of a fog, then glanced around the Coffee and Tea shop.

 _I'm the only fox – let's see now…five, six, two more wolves by the window for eight wolves, three mid-size cats. Not a bad business for what? Eleven p.m.? At the edge of Foxtown. All preds, not that_ _ **that**_ _is much of a surprise._ He checked his watch. _Scratch that – eleven fifteen._ He rubbed his cheek, where Judy had kissed him. _If I hadn't been so upset over losing that bet, I'd have let her kiss me on the mouth. I think. It's still so hard trying to figure out just_ _ **what**_ _I really want out of our relationship. Partner? Friend?_ He swallowed. _Lover?_ _It was so much simpler when I just wanted to make the next monetary score. But I wouldn't be honest if I didn't admit that Judy has become important to me. Heck, I even gave up grifting and took an honest job to be close to her. I have really got to decide what I want out of this._ He lifted the cup. _But what I_ _ **need**_ _right now is a refill._

As he stood waiting for his catnip tea, someone opened the café door behind him; the breeze at their back brought their scent to him – thick, musky, and moreover, familiar vixen's scent. Nick turned, "Hello … Karen? Karen Winters?"

The vixen's eyes dilated. Her eye-to-eye gaze was a predator-on-prey stare. "Nick – Nicholas Wilde?"

"It's been a few years, hasn't it? What brings you into my neighborhood tonight?" Nick asked.

"Tea, and sympathy?" the vixen purred.

"Wilde, your tea is ready!"

Nick turned back and picked up his tea. "I'll be over there, by the wall," he said, and strode back to his protected spot. _Now why the heck did I do that? Invite trouble to my table. Why? Am I losing it?_

Normally quick witted, with always a clever turn of phrase ready to deflect trouble, he was at a loss for words. He was still trying to recover his wits when the vixen settled in opposite. Nick coughed, clearing his suddenly phlegm clogged throat. "You're looking … good."

The vixen laughed softly. "You're still the same flatterer you were years ago, Nicky. I look like hell."

"No, no, really, you're looking …" Nick stopped and shook his head as if trying to clear a fog. No, there was a fog. In his thinking. He took a deep breath, in through the nose, and nearly gagged. It was the vixen's scent – heavy, musky, and pheromone laden. "The last ten years have been kind to you."

The vixen's laugh this time was more of a bark. "I've put on weight, my fur has lost much of its gloss, and the fur on my tail is thinning. You, on the other hand, look to be in fine health – your fur is glossy, thick, and there's still that 'twinkle' in your eyes. You know – the one that you always had when you were hatching some new hustle."

"I've moved beyond hustles, Karen. You have your tea," he said, pointing with his muzzle at the vixen's tea. "So why do you need sympathy? When last we met, you owned a house, you had a rich husband, your life was set."

"James and I are separated."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, you're not. You never were very good at lieing about your feelings," Karen said. "It's been a year now. We always seemed to have money problems – I found out that he was keeping several vixens 'on the side'. The last straw was when the market crashed – he moved one of his mistresses into our home; he wanted me to take care of their kits."

"That must have been … difficult," Nick managed. _Why am I so slow right now. It's like I'm trying to talk while drowning in molasses!_

The vixen reached out to take Nick's hands in hers. "It has. James has several properties in other cities – as well as a townhouse here in the Tundratown district. He's letting several of his other mistresses stay in them … rent free," Karen said, her muzzle curling up in a snarl as she spat out the last two words.

"I … don't know what to say," Nick said.

"Just let me talk. We need to reconnect. Do you have your cell phone with you?"

"Yes."

"What's your number – where are you staying? I thought I'd find you eventually. What have you been doing with yourself?"

"I've a small apartment – I'm with the ZPD now."

"You? A law enforcement officer?"

"Yes, me, a street LEO. As to the phone – I don't think I should do that. It's a department phone – strictly for official use. You understand?"

"How can I get in touch with you?"

"Take my card," Nick said, fishing out one of his ZPD officer cards. "A message at that number will get to my desk. There's voice mail in case I'm outside the station. But it's late, so I'd best be getting back to my apartment."

"Can you at least let me see where it is?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Karen. I'm in the ZPD, and it isn't always safe to know me."

"Oh…I hadn't thought of that," the vixen said, a slight whine in her voice, as the fox stood and scooted out of the café (careful to take his tea with him, of course).

#

Nick stared at his phone. _I should call her. My toes, fingers and nose are tingling. And it's not the right time of year for the scent of a vixen to do that to me – it has to have been "technically augmented"._ _Nuts! I should call whoever's on night dispatch about this one._ The idea of having to explain the situation – and the reason for his concern – to whoever was on night dispatch decided him. He pressed Judy's speed dial icon.

The phone rang eight times. "Come on, Judy, pick up – pick up for…"

"Wha?" Judy's answer was slurred.

"Judy, it's me, Nick. We've got to talk."

"Do you know…what time **_is_** it? It's past midnight!"

"This is important, Judy. We need … no, **_I_** need to talk to you. Now. Not tomorrow, not an hour from now. Now. Please?" a whine crept in to Nick's voice at the last word.

"What is it, Nick? Nightmares?"

"Not while sleeping. I think I've been drugged. I am not sure how – but I think I've been drugged and I need help."

"Nick, it's been months since we broke up the Night Howler case. And unless you're getting worried about your catnip tea habit…"

"No. It's not that. It's something different – it's a vixen."

"Nick? I thought…"

"I'm drunk – not from alcohol, but from the scent of a vixen, I think. And it is **_not_** the right time of year to be happening."

"Are you just imagining…"

"I am **_not_** imagining it. I need someone … I need to get to an emergency room, and have blood tests."

Judy yawned. "You have no sense of the time – why do you need me? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"This is embarrassing, and I really need you to come with me. Please?"

"You owe me, for this, foxie. Ok, I'll be at your apartment in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you – you're a life saver, Judy."

#

Emergency rooms have a certain scent to them, of both disinfectant and disease. This night was a slow night – only the usual selection of sick children, worried parents, and a smattering of individuals too poor for regular doctors. A quick flash of badges expedited service. So Officer Nick Wilde found himself being prodded and poked, while Lieutenant Judy Hopps stood by, studiously refraining from any comment. The lab work was also expedited, but it was still well past two thirty in the morning before the product of the prodding, poking, and blood sampling was made clear.

"Good morning, officer Wilde," the otter doctor said. "My name is Wilberforce – Doctor Joseph Wilberforce, and you are a very interesting case."

Nick exchanged looks with Judy, then sighed. "Please tell me that I'm not imagining how I feel right now…"

"Of course. The nasal swabs show sufficient quantities of pheromones, together with high enough blood concentrations to seriously affect your cognitive abilities," Wilberforce said. "Your blood tests showed forty-eight micrograms per liter concentrations of vulpanamine – more than sufficient to impair judgement."

"Laymen, please, doctor?" Judy said.

"Vulpanamine is an artificial female vulpine pheromone – it's made your friend here 'stupid'. He's thinking with something other than his brain," Wilberforce said.

"I do wish people wouldn't talk about me using the third person in my presence," Nick said, taking a deep breath.

"I would advise against driving or using heavy equipment for at least the next twenty-four hours, officer Wilde. Please note, officer Hopps – I'll be writing up my evaluation for your department's use before you leave."

"Thank you very much, doctor. But what caused this … ah … 'dosing'?" Judy asked.

"It's most easily distributed as an aerosol – your partner just had to breathe it in. First effects would have been within less than five minutes, given his body weight and his blood concentrations."

"Judy – I told you it wasn't just my imagination. My fingers and toes are still tingling…"

"That," Wilberforce said, turning to face Wilde instead of Hopps for the first time, "is a good indicator to you as to when you might consider driving again. Twelve hours after the tingling stops…"

"Twelve **HOURS**!?" Nick bellowed.

"Please, officer Wilde! Volume?" Wilberforce said. "We see this from time to time here – we're close enough to Foxtown to pick up a few of the date rape cases."

"Date rape? Me?" Nick whined.

"The artificial pheromone isn't something used lightly. But it does have valid medical uses – for treatment of vulpine male … sexual performance issues."

Nick's muzzle wrinkled. "I. Do. Not. Need. It."

Judy reached up and patted Nick on the shoulder. "That's ok, partner." She turned back to the doctor. "Other than his involuntary drugging problem, he's ok?"

"Yes, officer Hopps. Although your superiors might decide to … restrict … his activities to desk duty for the next day or two, just in case."

"Desk duty? Oh my stars and garters!" Nick said.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Immediate Aftermath

"You don't have to 'tuck me in', Fluffy," Nick said, as Judy pulled the blanket up, folded the top two inches over and neatly tucked the sides in under the mattress. "You **_really_** didn't have to do this," he managed to squeak.

"Nonsense. You're my **_partner_**. Besides, this way I can be pretty certain that you aren't going anywhere. And I can sleep well enough on your couch."

"I can barely breath – you've tucked the blankets in so tight…"

"No you don't! No guilt-tripping, mister."

"I wasn't trying to guilt-trip you, Carrots. But if you loosened up a bit…"

Judy leaned over, grabbed both of the fox's ears, and kissed him. Nick closed his eyes and relaxed into the kiss – until a little bunny tongue slipped into his mouth. His eyes snapped open and he started to struggle; Judy pulled back immediately. "Would that be enough of a start towards 'loosened up a bit'?"

"That is **_not_** what I meant, Carrots,"

"Oh? Then you should have been careful as to your wording. If you don't tell me **_exactly_** what you want, how can I be sure if I'm doing the right thing?" she asked, striking a pose. "I may be just a dumb bunny…"

"But you do know how to 'multiply'. Judy – the teasing is nice, sometimes. But right now, it's … rubbing me raw. I know you mean well, but I'm on such a roller coaster right now with that 'stuff' in my system…"

"Ok, I'll stop teasing. But think about this for a moment – it's not always going to be just a tease. I do love you," she said, as she turned and left the stunned fox in his bedroom.

Chapter 4: Mondays are what Sundays Threw Up

"Everyone, quiet down. Three items on the agenda this morning," Chief Bogo said, as he put on his reading glasses and slid them down his muzzle just a few inches to bring the fine print into focus.

"First, we have a new set of recruits. I'd introduce them, but as I've said before, I just don't care. Next, due to a minor medical problem, one of our patrolmen will be reassigned to Records for today. That means you, Wilde."

"But…"

"Shut up, Wilde. Finally other assignments…" Chief Bogo quickly ran through the list, handing out case files to the teams, until only Hopps, Wilde and one new recruit were left. "Hopps, you and … what's your name again?"

"Reynolds, sir," the new recruit said. He was a tall, thin, canid, of some indeterminate breed with a beige coat and a black "star" on his forehead.

"Yes. Hopps, you will act as Patrolman Reynolds' training officer – for today only. There's been a homicide reported on Pine Street, near the tram station. Francine is the OIC until you get there – she's already pulled a double shift, so take over and let her go home. You know the drill, protect the scene until the scientific investigations people have had their 'fun', and **_don't move the body until the coroner has examined it in situ!_** "

"I would never do that, sir," Hopps replied.

"I know you wouldn't – you're a good cop. But I would rather repeat the instruction, **_just to make sure_** **,** Lieutenant. Just to make sure," Bogo said. "And you, Wilde – you have your orders. Move!" he finished, then turned and walked out.

After Bogo left, Wilde on his heels, Reynolds swallowed. "Ma'am? Is the Chief like that every day?"

Hopps giggled. "No. He was in a good mood today. C'mon, let's get down to the garage and get our car." She grinned up at the taller LEO. "Welcome to ZPD."

#

Wilde had just started "reorganizing" in Records when Chief Bogo stomped in. "Good morning again, Chief. And to what does this humble file clerk owe this visitation from one of the High Lords of the ZPD?" Nick was smiling, but only with his mouth.

"Can it, Wilde. Something came up – that has City Hall up my tail and, Lord help us, you are the only 'unassigned' officer available. That the officer in question has numerous connections to, dare I say it, some of the less reputable elements of our society is a 'plus'."

Nick took a deep breath, then sneezed. "Sorry, Chief. Some of these files are dusty, and…"

"Can it, Wilde."

Nick bit back what he **_wanted_** to say, and spoke politely (for once). "Ok, sir, just what do you need me to do?"

"There's a new variety of porn hitting the Net; and given your 'connections', I'm assigning you to view what samples have 'popped up' with an eye to identifying the producers and such of the 'performers' as you can manage."

"You're telling me that my **_job_** for the next few days is going to be to sit around **_watching pornographic videos?_** "

"I know this is breaking your heart – but what City Hall wants to know is who is producing this crap, and who is performing in it, and **_shut this business down_**."

Nick managed to keep a straight face. "Who will I see…"

Bogo handed him a case file. "You'll see Anderson in Scientific Investigations – the Computer Crimes people stumbled on this…well…I won't foul the air with what I think of this kind of video. It's your top priority until this is settled or until I change my mind."

"Yessir!" Nick snapped to attention; Bogo sighed, and stomped off muttering. _I might have to explain this carefully to Judy later, but it should be worth a few laughs. And seeing her blush might be worth it – although I shouldn't tease her about her innocence. At least not_ _ **too**_ _much._

#

Nick sauntered in to the computer crimes lab and made a beeline for Candace Anderson, an arctic fox. He slid in behind her and rested his muzzle on the specialist's shoulder. "How is the most attractive arctic fox in Civil Service, today, Candi?"

Anderson sighed. "I enjoy the flattery – but it won't get you anywhere special, _today_. Bogo called ahead to tell me that you'd be the poor sot given this assignment," she said, spinning around to face Wilde.

"Poor sot? Me?"

"Yes. But you'll agree with me after you view the three videos we've found so far."

"Fill me in – I've just been told that there's some new form of porn that popped up," he said, pulling out his notepad and pen.

"ADA Carolson was surfing the net, and the first video popped up…"

"Janet was surfing for _porn_ **?** "

"ADA Carolson was using the net at her home. I took her laptop, and found malware that was designed to both act as a remote control device and to download files from the 'Dark Web'. We entered the laptop hard drive into evidence. Here's the record number," she said, handing Wilde a slip of paper.

"I viewed the video myself, and verified that the file had been downloaded by the malware. A copy of the file, complete with the metadata, was moved to an isolated system. You'll be using that system to view the evidence yourself."

"Ok, you're going to go all 'official' on me, Candi. What's so special about this video? I've seen porn before…"

"Not like this, you haven't, Nick. Believe me."

#

It was two hours that Nick never wanted to repeat. But he had, with Candi's help, enough screen shots to begin trying to identify the "actors" and "actresses" in the three videos that they'd found … so far.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Moments of Transition

Nick settled into the couch. It had been a hard day; harder than he'd expected. The oversized beer mug sat in front of him on the coffee table, condensation dripping down the glass sides. He picked it up, careful not to spill any of the 32 ounces of hard cider in the mug.

A knock at the door stopped him, with the mug halfway to his lips. "If it's you, Judy, you've got keys."

He set the mug down waiting. The door opened, and Judy Hopps bounded into the room. "I am **_so_** glad that this day is over, Nick. It was **_rough_**."

"Tell me about it, Judy," Nick said, and proceeded to guzzle a third of the contents of his mug.

"Whoa! Nick," Judy said, pulling the mug away from the fox. "No answers in the bottom of the bottle, remember? We'll be back together tomorrow – it was just…"

"It wasn't being away from you, Jude. It was … what I saw."

Judy looked up at the ceiling. "Overacting? Records couldn't have been **_that_** bad. Although the dust must have done a real number on you – your eyes are bloodshot."

"I wasn't in Records, I was redirected to SID – the computer lab."

"You? In with the techies? What could you do?"

"I watched." Nick shuddered, and put his head between his legs.

"Watched what?"

"Interspecies sex videos."

"And **_you_** are broken up over some porn videos? Foxie, have you suddenly become the innocent? Mister cynic?"

Nick buried his muzzle in his ventral fur; his mumbled reply was incomprehensible.

Judy reached out, put her paws on either side of the fox's muzzle, and gently lifted. "I had to take charge of a secondary rape-murder scene of a vixen. She was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, and her pants were pulled down around her ankles. She'd been penetrated anally with a foreign object, and her throat cut; the perp held her down with a knee to the middle of her back while she bled out. We haven't located the primary crime scene, yet. And you're upset because you had to watch some people having sex?"

"It wasn't just interspecies sex. The females in each case were 'killed' on camera. The special effects were **_really_** good – it looked **_real_**. The last one was of a fox male raping a rabbit female; the doe looked enough like you to be one of your sisters. When he was done raping her, he bit down on her neck, tore out her throat; while the blood was still pumping, he took a large knife and opened her up from nape to navel and pulled out her intestines."

Judy took a deep breath. "Ok, I can understand how you would find that … disturbing. But it was just a video, right? Just someone's special effects. Not real."

"But it really **_looked_** real." He shuddered. "Worse was that until the scene with the fox and the rabbit turned rough I was aroused."

Judy giggled. "Wishful thinking, Nick?"

"Ok, I probably deserved that comment. But … honesty, remember? I think you're beautiful. So until it got rough, I was 'turned on'. When it turned rough, I got sick. When it was over – complete with the violent end, which I **_had_** to watch … I threw up into a waste basket."

"Well, in that at least, you weren't alone."

"Oh?"

"Yeah – the newbie puked himself dry when he saw the dead vixen. He did get clear of the area, though, so he didn't contaminate the scene. I gave him the 15.07s to fill out with what we found."

"Did you ID the victim?"

"Not yet. You can help me with the canvas tomorrow. You do 'know everyone' after all. And I don't have the contacts in 'Foxtown'. In the meantime…" she looked at the still half full mug and frowned. "Can we do without the hard cider? And have you even eaten anything, yet?"

Nick sighed. "Ok, I'll put it back in the 'fridge. And no, I haven't."

"Then clean up a bit, and we're going to go out to dinner. My treat."

"If you're paying, I can manage to eat something…"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Moments of Revelation

"Wilde – you're back with Hopps, working the vixen rape-murder. Reynolds, you get to take over from Wilde with Anderson in SID; Wilde can show you were the computer lab is and introduce you around. Fangmire, Francine…"

Wilde tuned out the remainder of the assignments. _At least I don't have to look at any more of those sick videos._

#

"All right, everyone … hit the streets. And stay safe out there!" Bogo said, turned, and headed back to his office.

Nick turned to Judy. "Ok, first I need to look at the crime scene photos…"

"They're pretty grim…"

"I'm sure they are – while you're getting that together, I'll take the newbie down to see Anderson, and then I'll be heading over to the morgue."

"The **_morgue?"_**

"Yeah – to con the coroner into giving us more information, **_before_** she files her official report," Nick said. "I **_think_** I can convince her to …"

Judy looked up at the ceiling. "You're going to hustle 'her'."

"Hey, it's what I **_do_** Carrots. And it's not as though I'm going to offer her anything…"

"Except you're going to try and swindle her…"

"We're on the same team, Carrots. I just want to move us a bit closer to the head of the line. There's **_always_** a backup on autopsies – that's why there are the coolers, and that is also why the place smells so rank. Remember what you did the first time you had to go there?"

"How did you find **_that_** out, Nick?" Judy asked.

Nick smirked. "Just by being nice to the coroner."

Judy rolled her eyes. There were times when Nick's shenanigans were useful. Then there were times when they were just irritating.

#

Nick stared at the cadaver in front of him. Then he turned away, pulled out his cell phone, and hit Judy's speed dial. It only took three rings. "We don't need to canvas the neighborhood to ID the victim. I know her – her name is Karen Winters."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Protective Measures and Legwork

"It's a secondary, Nick," Judy said, as she slid into the driver's seat.

"Still need to see it. And we're going to have to canvas the neighborhood to see if anyone saw anything. 'By the numbers and by the book.'"

"You're sure you're up to this?"

"Yes, for what … the tenth time? I got past my feelings for Karen years ago."

"But you were physically attracted to her…"

"Because of 'technical augmentation'. And that trick only works once."

"Oh? You have some magical patch or injection that protects you from pheromones?"

"Yes. Now drive." Nick was staring forward, not looking to either side.

Judy turned to the fox and glared. "Give."

"Just drive."

"When you tell me what you did to protect yourself. Not one second before."

Nick sighed and turned to face the rabbit. He brought his paw up to his nose and tapped on something that was stuck in his nasal passages with his index and middle finger. "Filters."

"Never seen you doing that before. Why?"

"Because I **_like_** the scent of vixens. And when it isn't 'technically augmented', it doesn't drive me loopy **_immediately_**. Now you know, so drive," he finished, turning back to stare pointedly forward, ignoring the bunny (for the moment, at least).

Judy gunned the engine as they roared out of the ZPD parking lot, so that the engine noise covered the sound of her laughter.

#

The first stop was the secondary crime scene – where the body had been dumped. A narrow alley, behind a fast food eatery, still marked off with police tape. Nick looked over the scene, comparing the locations of the trash bins and the scattered blood droplets with the digitized images that the CSU people had taken the previous day.

"What are you looking for?" Judy asked. "We went over this place in detail; the CSU types even went through all of the garbage in the dumpsters, looking for any ID. And we had a half dozen trainees from the Academy searching every trash can for six blocks around looking for a purse, a wallet or an ID."

Nick pulled the filters out of his nose and took a deep breath. "Something that isn't easily recorded. The smell. Not just the trash – that I can recognize. But there's no urine or fecal matter."

"That just confirms that this wasn't the primary, Nick."

"I know. But it still doesn't hurt to check. Remember what they said at the Academy?"

"Always double check. You'll need to take the lead questioning people around here…"

Nick chuckled. "Because they're 'my kind of people'?"

"No, foxie, because you're better at hustling than I could **_ever_** be. Besides, you're so **_cute_** when you're on a hustle…"

Nick looked skyward, but kept quiet. _The better part of valor_ , he thought.

#

Questioning the store owners across from the tram station turned up empty. A quick glance at the traffic cameras brought a muttered curse from Hopps, and a shrug from Nick; they were all out of service (more likely the result of a few well thrown rocks than any other form of weapons' fire).

"Well," Nick said, looking down the street. There's still two more places to hit." He checked his watch. "And they should be just about ready to open."

"Where?"

Nick pointed to the two "gentlemen's clubs" at the end of the block.

"Oh, no…Nick?"

"You can close your eyes, Fluffy. But you might want to pay attention to what's said with those oh-so-sensitive ears of yours. Focus on what they **_don't_** say, or subvocalize, and on the tone."

"Interrogation 101. But we're not really planning on **_interrogating_** anyone, yet, are we?"

"Don't let it get to you, Carrots. And try to keep your cool if they say something … off."

It only took a few minutes to reach the first club, Bottoms Up. "It's mostly predator dancers…"

"Any cute males?"

"Not that kind of a club, Carrots," Nick said, as he stepped through the open door to the lobby. The bouncer was a female grizzly bear, easily a foot and a half taller than Nick, and four times his mass.

"What can I do for your officer?" she said, looking down at the fox on the other side of the counter from her.

Nick grinned. "You could ask Carol to come out here and talk to us, or buzz us through the employee's entrance so we could get to her office."

The grizzly jerked her head up and back, and growled deep in her throat.

"Or you could just hit the yellow button on the underside of the counter … right here," he said, pointing at a spot next to the grizzly's massive left paw.

"How do you know…?"

"The yellow button is for friends of the boss. The red button next to it is for Vice – we're not Vice, we're on a homicide investigation and I **_personally_** could care less about what goes on in the VIP suites. And the green button on the other side is to unlock the customer door to the floor." He grinned a wider grin, and leaned on the counter.

"Is Carol paying you the usual $10.75 an hour with a 2% cut of the girls' dance fees? Or did you manage a better deal?"

"Where did you…" the grizzly began, then looked more carefully at the fox. "Nicholas Wilde?"

"Got it in one, babe. Now if you'd…"

"Carol changed the system – we've got an intercom, now. For 'special' guests. And did she give you a cut of the dance fees?"

"Well, I only got 1%, but I think that was because she liked me **_personally_**. I'm not exactly bouncer material. I'd guess that's why Carol got someone like you, Adahy."

The grizzly laughed; it was loud enough that the floor seemed to shake. She reached over and threw a switch. "Boss, I've got an old friend of yours here, I think. I don't know him, but he clearly knows me – Nicholas Wilde. But he's a cop!"

"Is good. Buzz Kolya through to my office. It has been quite a while – and if he **_is_** with ZPD now…"

"Ok, Nicholas Wilde, the boss will see **_you_** …"

"And my partner."

"Partner? That bit of fluff is your **_partner_**?" the grizzly asked. "I thought she was someone trying to audition as a dancer…"

"Oh, she might be that, too…" Nick said, smirking as he looked Judy over carefully.

"Piberious Wilde…" Judy said, a warning tone in her voice…

"Oooh, middle name. I'd better watch myself," Nick said, as he slid past the counter towards the employee entrance, Hopps in tow.

#

The arctic fox slid out from her hiding place behind the office door and wrapped her arms around Nick and plastered herself on his back. "Is good to see you again, Kolya!" she said, and she licked the rim of his left ear.

"Hey, that tickles, Carol! And drop the silly accent," Nick said.

Judy cleared her throat.

"Ok, but it's an established part of my shtick! Who's your friend, by the way?" the arctic fox asked, as Nick slowly (and apparently reluctantly) separated himself from her entangling arms.

"Lieutenant Judith Hopps, ZPD!" the bunny called out. "We have questions!"

"Goodie!" the arctic fox, said. "But Michael is still handling auditions, Nick. You do find the most … interesting … friends. We could really use a 'naughty cop' act – your friend would fill the bill. But…"

"Carol, she really is a lieutenant in the ZPD," Nick said. "And I'm **_really_** a patrolman in the ZPD. And while fun is fun, it really is police business that brought us here, Miss Carol Andrews."

Carol sighed. "Not even for old time's sake? Just a little fun?"

"Sorry, Carol. We need to know if you've seen this vixen," Nick pulled out one of the digitized photos of Karen Winters.

Carol stared, and one paw went to her mouth. "She's dead…"

"Did you know her?"

"Yes. She was a new hire – she's been working here for about six months. I can find out exactly when she started dancing here if you need to know."

"Was she dancing this last weekend?"

"Yes – I remember. She was filling in for Kitten. She danced under the stage name 'Kitsune'. She danced the evening shift on Sunday – 6 pm to 2 am."

"Did she have any enemies?" Judy asked.

"Not that I was aware of," Carol said.

"Not even among the other dancers?" Nick asked.

"No – she filled in for other girls who couldn't make their scheduled times, she always showed up for **_her_** scheduled hours, and she was a favorite on the stage – when she was dancing, the PLs would just throw bills at her. And they'd stay at the rail and keep throwing for the next two or three dancers," Carol said.

"So the 'Pathetic Losers' loved her – did she have any regulars?" Nick asked.

"Sure. But don't ask for their names."

"Right – PLs don't typically give real names – just aliases," Nick said, and chuckled.

"Do you have any photographs or videos of her regulars?" Judy asked.

"We run a safe shop here, bunnykins," Carol said. "But I've got a word for you: 'warrant'. We also try to keep our confidences."

"Oh, perhaps you'd like to have Vice paying more attention to you…" Judy began, then noticed Nick shaking his head ever so slightly side-to-side.

"Go ahead and try, bunnybutt! You don't get one second of video…" Carol began and stopped, as Nick spun her around and kissed her; she melted into his arms. Nick signaled to his (senior) partner to quiet down.

Judy began thumping her foot on the floor as the clinch passed the one minute mark. Her thumping fast approached 40 Hz as it reached the ninety second mark, at which point Nick broke contact and gasped for breath.

"Have you changed your mind, Nick? You could always…" Carol began.

"No, sorry. Call it … an apology for an overzealous partner. We still on good terms?"

Carol sighed. "Yes, though I wish it wasn't just an apology. You're always welcome, Nick. And **_for you_** , Nick," she glared at Judy, and her muzzle wrinkled up in a snarl, "I'll send you copies of our security videos of Karen's dances – on stage and in the VIP rooms."

"Thank you, Carol. My card – you can send them to the e-mail address listed there," he said, and scrawled something on the back of the card. "If you want to talk – in private – I've written my private number on the back."

"Oh, Nick…" Carol said.

"We won't take up any more of your time, Carol," Nick said.

"You can come back any time – you're on my private VIP list any time…"

"I'll … think about it," Nick said, as he strode out of the back office, Judy at his heels.

#

"Well, that was productive," Nick said, once they were outside the club.

"Productive? What about honesty, Nick. I thought you said…"

"I've only had four vixen lovers. Carol **_wanted_** me in her bed. I really didn't want to, at the time. I was **_working_** for her at the time. It would **_not_** have felt 'right'. But we will know where Karen Winters was on Sunday from 6 pm to 2 am, with evidence, once we have the videos."

"If this 'Carol' sends them. Did you **_have_** to kiss her like that?"

"'It's a hustle, sweetheart.' A lot less trouble than getting a search warrant. Where is our 'probable cause' after all? You managed to antagonize her 'just a little'. I had to smooth things over. It was all in the line of duty…and are you _jealous_?"

Judy took a deep breath before answering. "A bit. You haven't kissed me like that. Why?"

"Because you're my partner, you're senior to me in the force, and … I wasn't sure how I wanted to treat you – and I'm still not sure. And I am darn sure that I didn't want you to actually get mad at me – better not to act, then to cross a line that should **_not_** be crossed. Like calling a bunny 'cute' for example, only I imagined it would be a lot worse."

"Because 'you bunnies are so emotional'?" Judy asked, scowling.

"Because there are some things that I never want to try unless I'm already **_absolutely_** certain of the response," Nick said. "And you are emotional – so am I. But getting back to business? You know, trying to figure out just what happened? Since we will soon know exactly what Karen was up to between 6 pm and 2 am, and the coroner placed Karen Winters' time of death between 1 am and 2:30 am, based on liver temperature and ambient temperatures that morning, we're getting closer to the precise time of death."

"But that still leaves us with 30 minutes to nail down," Judy said.

"Yes, but that's better than the ninety minutes we had when we started. That's what legwork is about, Carrots. And," Nick looked at his watch, "we're only a little over three hours into the shift. Progress!"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Legwork, One Step At A Time

"Pussy Galore? Where do they come up with the names for these 'Gentlemen Clubs'? Nick?" Judy asked.

"Sorry, Fluffy. I don't know – but it is at least a somewhat honest description of what is provided inside. After you," Nick said, opening the double doors for the smaller rabbit.

"Hey, long time no see, Nick!" the snow leopard bouncer said. "I hope you're not in Vice…"

"No, 'Spots'. Is Gozpozja Ivanov on the floor this morning?"

"Sure…go on in. There's only two girls right now – and the boss might be happy to see you again," 'Spots' said.

"And if she isn't?"

"Well … you're a LEO now, so she likely won't have you cut up and the parts sent to the four corners of the city…" 'Spots' said.

"Glad to hear that she's still interested in keeping relations good with her friends in blue," Nick said, and opened the door to the floor for Judy. Judy ducked under the fox's arm, and strode into the club, not saying a word.

Nick made a beeline for an artic fox vixen by the DJ stand, Hopps just a meter behind him. "Good to see you again, Katya. How is my still-favorite arctic fox?"

Katrina Ivanov turned, and looked the fox over. "I see that you've gone over to the light side, Nicholas. Or is this just another, bigger, hustle?" Her voice was icy, her muzzle wrinkled just slightly into an almost-snarl.

"No hustle, Katya. And before you ask, no, I'm not working Vice. You can run your little crap game in the back, and keep your cribs for the looser dancers on the second floor. What **_we_** are trying to do," Nick pointed to Hopps and then himself, "is find out who murdered a local dancer." He pulled out the photo of Karen Winters. "Did Ms. Winters ever dance here?"

The arctic fox looked the photo over carefully. "Perhaps. What is it worth to you?"

"How about a 'get out of jail free' card – if your information is of use to us?" Nick pulled out one of his cards and held it out to the arctic fox.

Katrina Ivanov took the card. "She danced here on Wednesday through Friday on the morning shifts. From the looks of this photo, I take it that I'll need to replace her."

"She was murdered. I don't suppose you'd be able to tell if she had any enemies?" Nick asked.

"She had a bit of trouble last week with a customer – a rather stuffy red fox. Claimed his name was 'Richard Markov', but it was an obvious alias. He was roughly your height, Nicholas – but at least five or six years older and running to fat. Perhaps 130 to 140 pounds."

"What was the trouble?" Nick asked.

"He seemed to be incensed at Ms. Winters dancing here – I gathered that he was a former lover or boyfriend. We have security footage of the 'discussion'. Andrew threw him out."

"That must have been ... interesting. Do you have Andrew's current address?"

"Yes, somewhere. But he's working here tonight on the evening shift. Seven pm to two am."

"You'll send his contact information to me at the e-mail address on my card?"

"Of course, of course. Is there anything else you need? I have to see to setup…"

"No, but we may be back," Nick said, and gathering Judy up, hustled her out of the club via the back exit.

#

"And just what was the point of the 'short discussion'? There had to be a dozen more questions that **_I_** would have asked, Nick," Judy said, once they were outside the club.

"Katrina would have closed up on you after the first word. We got as much as we were going to get – this time. You may not have noticed, if looks could kill, you'd be dead, and I'd be on life support. We got in and out without bodily harm, and we also got **_some_** information."

"We got the **_promise_** of information, Nick," Judy said.

"A promise from Katrina is good. She also didn't promise to beat the crap out of me, so I figure that we came out ahead. And we can **_always_** come back again – though I might want to bring Fangmire and Francine as backup."

"You're not serious – she wouldn't attack a ZPD officer. Would she?"

"You remember Mister Big?"

"Yes…"

"Think of her as a larger version, with a little bit less in the way of constraints."

Judy shuddered. "You have such … interesting … old friends."

"I told you what she was like – 'cold as a Tundratown ice cube'. Did you think I was exaggerating?"

"For conversational effect, yes. You do tend to, you know."

"Well, in her case, I downplayed it just a bit. She and I parted ways on somewhat less than the best of terms."

"I **_thought_** you said the two of you were lovers."

"Yes – emphasis on 'were'. And when I left, it was not an amicable parting."

"Just what did you do?"

"You remember how I acted when you came out after the Night Howler press conference? The first one?"

Judy swallowed. "I thought we agreed…"

"If I was a four on a scale of one to ten then, when I left Katrina I was an eleven. I don't like to show it when they get to me, but in Katrina's case … well … she **_really_** got to me."

"Are you still angry with her?"

"No, but I am a bit afraid of her. The word is that her last lover ended up in the river, with a set of concrete boots."

"She's a **_murderer_**?"

"That's the rumor – and someday, someone may decide to turn a 'missing person' case into a murder investigation. In the meantime, let's just say that she doesn't have a reputation for being nice to people who walk away from her."

"Then we should have had backup…"

"Actually, **_you_** were my backup this time. She looked daggers at you, but I can't imagine that she hasn't heard at least **_some_** of the rumors about us."

Judy shook her head. "Let's check out the husband – and I'll just bet that 'Richard Markov' will turn out to be James Wilber Foxworth."

"We don't have any proof to that effect, yet. But I won't take your bet."

"And why is that?"

"I don't take sucker bets."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Legwork – You have to touch ALL of the bases

"Why here first, Carrots?" Nick asked, as the walked up the steps to the late Ms. Winters' townhouse.

"Because I looked at my watch, and realized that we had an ID, so it might help us to search Ms. Winters' living accomodations. You can learn a **_lot_** from the victim. What did they call it at the Academy?"

Nick stopped, look up at the sky, and sighed. "'Victimology. Always learn as much as you can about the victim, and the perpetrator might then become more obvious'," Nick said, quoting the Academy lecture from memory.

"And who got the search warrant that we needed?" Judy said, waving her smartphone under Nick's nose, with the PDF of the warrant prominently displayed on the screen.

"You did, Carrots. Because I hadn't thought to – though I knew we might need it," Wilde said.

"Now, you knock on the door, and if no one answers, we'll just … find a way in."

 _There are days when it feels like I'm back in the Academy. Why should I have to practically get a law degree just to do my job?_ Nick thought, but was careful not to voice as he went up the last few steps to the door, and knocked loudly. "Zootopia Police … open up!"

Nick and Judy waited for a long five count. "Knock again, Nick," Judy said.

"Zootopia Police … we have a search warrant. If you do not open the door, we will be forced to break it down!" Nick yelled.

Still no response.

"Ok, that didn't work," Nick said. "I think we should open a window – the hard way, if necessary."

"Don't feel like getting the ram out of the trunk?" Judy asked.

"No, and do you happen to know how much a new door would cost? Those rams are murder on doors. A broken window costs a **_lot_** less to replace."

"Concern about cost, Nick?"

"You try growing up poor – you'll be a lot more concerned about damaging property. Any property. Someone has to pay to repair it, and that **_hurts_**."

Judy sighed, briefly covered her face with both paws, then looked up just as Nick used an elbow to break a window and his baton to clear the window pane of any remaining sharp fragments. Nick reached in, unlatched the window and opened the window. "Ok, this is where your smaller size comes in handy. You go in here, and come back to open the door."

Judy took out her trank gun, checked the dart, and loaded the compressed air cartridge.

"Be careful, Judy."

"Ever and always," she said, as she slid through the opened window.

Nick drew his sidearm, chambered a round and took out his flashlight; the room did not look to be lit. He waited, several feet back from the door and to one side, until Judy unlocked and opened the front door.

"Don't turn on the lights – let's do this as quietly as we can," Judy said.

They moved through the townhouse, leapfrogging one covering and one moving into each room in turn. Only a whispered, "clear!" broke the silence, until they came to the bedroom. By chance, it was Judy's turn to move into the room and Nick's to cover.

"Cheese and crap on a cracker!" Judy cried out; Nick rolled into the room and brought his automatic up in one paw, his flashlight held high in the other.

"Call it in, Judy!" Nick called out, as he took in the sight.

One male fox, two vixens in the bed, naked. They'd obviously been 'engaged' when someone had come in and shot all three. "Things have just gotten a little bit more complicated, Judy."

"That has to be the understatement of the year, Nick…" Judy replied.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Puzzle pieces…

Back at the station, Nick tried to focus on filling out the 15.07 form. _There are times when Carrots gets on my nerves. And there are times when I just want to scream. Not only did she manage to con me into being the officer-in-charge at the townhouse crime scene, she has to stick me with filling out the report paperwork. There is no justice!_ He thought, as he worked on the form. _And why do they have to have numbers for the form instead of just calling it an "incident report" like it says across the top of the form? "There's a right way, a wrong way, and a ZPD way."_

 **Three homicide victims (see reference 21552, Coroner's Report) found at the scene (Townhouse at 2115 Alpine Way) Tuesday at 10:15 am. Two female fox and one male fox victims. Each female fox victim was shot once in the head. Entry wound for victim 1 (Nancy Lewis Reiner, age 23) was in the back of the head; no exit wound found. Awaiting recovery of bullet (autopsy pending). Entry wound for victim 2 (female fox, Janet Michaelson, age 21) was right eye. Exit wound back of head. Victim 3 (male fox, James Wilber Foxworth, age 41) was shot eight times in the lower abdomen and genitals. Nine 25 caliber rounds recovered from the scene (eight from the mattress, one from the headboard – see virtual crime scene image, attached). All recovered rounds turned over to Ballistics for analysis (analysis pending). Preliminary cause of death victims 1 & 2: GSW to head. Preliminary cause of death victim 3: exsanguination due to GSW to groin. Preliminary estimate of time of death for all victims noted was between 1 pm and 4 pm Sunday.**

Nick looked over the crime scene imagery again, and added a few more words to the summary. There was an acid taste in the back of his throat; he looked over at his partner, and tried to smile. "Carrots, do you think you could get me one more mug of catnip tea? Please?"

Judy scowled. "That would be your what? Eighth cup this shift?"

"No – it's only my sixth." He paused, and counted. "I think. No…I'm fairly sure. Just my sixth."

"The sixth you've finished, or this sixth that you're trying to con me into getting for you?"

"The latter, I'll admit. But I'm the one who's finishing up the paperwork for today's work."

"Ok, but you really should cut back at least a bit."

"When someone stops littering the town with dead bodies, I will. We've had four homicides in the last three days – normally we wouldn't have four homicides in four months, let alone three days," Nick said, shuddering.

"Now, Nick, it does happen. Last year Zootopia had a hundred thirty homicides – that's an average of almost three each week."

"And how many of those were in the 'Foxtown' area? Check your computer, would you?"

Judy opened her mouth, began to say something, then stopped and turned back to her monitor. Several minutes later she looked up. "I apologize, Nick. There were only twelve homicides in the 'Foxtown' area last year. One a month, on average." She shuddered.

"Ok. Now would you **_pretty please_** get me more catnip tea? Before I go stark raving mad?" Nick begged, then gave his best impression of a crazed fox,

Judy giggled. "Ok, just stop the ham acting."

Nick chuckled, and went back to finishing the incident report.

#

Judy checked her watch. "Shift's been over for a good half hour. Aren't you done yet?"

"Just finishing, Carrots. Dinner?"

"Sure. How about that new place between our two apartments?"

"You thinking of the 'mixed meals' place?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. We can both have something we like, and we can work out strategy for tomorrow. You have some ideas?"

"After this," he pointed to the completed forms on his monitor. "Yes. But it can wait until after we've both had something to eat."

#

Nick sighed, and pushed a few inches back from the restaurant table. "That was … good. I don't get as much salmon as I like these days."

"What? You can afford fish at least three times a week on your salary."

"Yeah, but I don't want to mess it up. I'm not exactly the best cook in the world. Fried insect, yes, that I can manage. Ground turkey or chicken – pan fried, that I can handle. But fish? That costs easily three times as much as insects and twice as much as ground turkey or chicken. So … when I'm eating in, I eat what I can cook."

"Is **_that_** why you go in for that 'fried insect bundle'?"

"Well, it's easy to make, I like the taste, and it's comfort food. But yes, ease in cooking is an important factor," Nick said.

"You really ought to improve your diet, Nick. You can't keep eating like a growing kit – especially when you're not exercising enough."

"Yes, Fluffy, I promise to be a better tod. Wouldn't want to end up like the good mister Foxworth."

"Yuck. Ok, a bit of business, now that neither of us is eating. What do you think happened?" Judy asked, sipping at her still warm coffee.

"Me? I think that Foxworth was killed by someone who really hated him. The vixens? Both of them were done away efficiently, with a minimum of fuss. One shot each, back of the head for the one with her back to the bedroom door, in one eye for the vixen facing the door. My guess? Michaelson was shot first, then Reiner. Foxworth was 'stuck' in Reiner, and he probably didn't realize what was happening at first; Michaelson was obscuring his vision…"

Judy made a face. "That is an understatement. But the bladder release should have alerted him to something happening."

"Maybe. But I figure that the killer started shooting Foxworth where it would really hurt. Eight rounds in the lower abdomen, groin and genitals. After the efficiency with which the killer dispatched the two vixens, I'd guess that whoever it was emptied the clip where he – or she – thought it would do the most good – where it would hurt, and take Foxworth as long as possible to die."

"At least it does one thing for us."

"Yeah, it eliminates Foxworth as a possible suspect in his wife's killing. Coroner said that he was killed between 1 and 4 pm on Sunday. Karen wasn't killed until between 2 and 2:30 am Monday morning, a minimum of ten hours later."

"Hey, you know the rule."

"Yup. When one member of a married couple is murdered, investigate the spouse. But … aside from being a son-of-a-vixen, Foxworth is obviously in the clear. So now we have to find another suspect," Nick said.

"And who would you suspect?"

"Well, I'd certainly want to question his wife – if she were still alive, that is. Quick and merciful for the mistresses, long and painful for the husband. What would that suggest to you, Carrots?"

"Are all fox families like that?"

"Not mine – mom and dad loved each other. When dad died, I don't think mom ever really recovered. We were … getting by until dad died. Then times really got rough. But dad died of a heart attack. He was a tailor – never really made all that much money. We couldn't afford health insurance, so … he couldn't get the medical care he needed."

Judy reached out and covered Nick's paws with hers.

"Well," Nick said, "at least we have one fewer suspects to check out. Tomorrow we can check on the videos from Katrina Ivanov."

"If we get them by then," Judy said.

"If not," Nick said, "we go back – with a search warrant for the security videos. And if she doesn't turn them over…"

"Obstruction of justice?"

"Yeah, depending on what the ADA can come up with. She could get an indictment for turkey sandwich from the Grand Jury. If I sweet talk her, I'd expect that I could get a charge of accomplice after the fact, or conspiracy to commit murder."

"Whoowee. When you play rough, you play rough, Nick. Remind me not to get on your bad side…" Judy said, half-jokingly.

"No, Judy, I wouldn't turn on you. The most that I'd do would be to just 'walk away'. I am glad that you came back to apologize, that time."

"I don't like leaving loose ends, Nick. And I won't leave them on this case either."

"Well, there's always tomorrow."

"Then we should get a good night's sleep tonight," Judy said, and leaned over the table to place a chaste kiss on the fox's nose, before he could jerk back out of range.

"Ah … "

"Another fish impression, Nick?" Judy said, striking a pose. "This time, it wasn't a hustle, sweetheart. And … do stay away from the coroner, please?"

"Why?" Nick asked, eyes crossed from looking at the end of his nose.

"I don't want you getting sweet on someone else."

"Ah … I am **_not_** getting sweet on anyone else."

"Goodie. Now, you can walk me back to my apartment…"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Wednesday's Child is Full of Woe

"Hopps and Wilde – you've got two cases now. The Winters case and the triple homicide on Alpine Way. Fangmire and Francine – you're to handle the house break-in on La Cienega. Reynolds – you get to keep watching those vidoes and try to get some IDs. And this time, Reynolds, **_hit the damn wastebasket_. ** The video room smells bad enough as it is…" Chief Bogo droned on, handing out case files as he went.

Nick tried to look attentive; Judy was actually paying attention, unlike her partner. Although Wilde did manage to chuckle along with the others when Bogo mentioned the new guys inability to keep his food down while watching the violent porn videos.

Judy gathered up the case files that she'd been skimming and tapped Nick on the shoulder just as Bogo finished. "Let's get moving…"

#

"Have you got the forensics report for the Winters case, Carrots?"

"Yes. The knife used was most likely a double edged fixed blade. If we can find out what position she was in when she was stabbed, then forensics said that it should be possible to duplicate the position, then use that to determine the detailed shape of the blade."

"Ok, I'll bite, Carrots – how?"

"Tina said that she'd duplicate the position with the body, then inject fast setting plastic into the stabbing wounds, and then do 3-D scans of all the results and make up a likely blade."

"'Tina'? Ok, clearly there's someone else I have to make the acquaintance of. What's her full name?"

"Tina Lop. She's a sly rabbit…" Judy said, smirking.

Nick chuckled. "Ok. What's the 'booby trap' awaiting me if I try to look her up?"

"She's a bit … eccentric. I hope you like coffins."

"I'd just as soon stay out of a coffin – at least, as long as I can manage it. But what does that have to do with someone in the CSU lab?"

"She sleeps in one. She also takes naps in one of the medical examiner's coolers when she has to work late…"

Nick looked more than mildly revolted. "Ok, you've just discouraged me completely, Carrots."

"Oh, she's a very nice person. And I thought you **_liked_** rabbits now."

"I like **_a_** rabbit, Carrots. One. Adeen. Uno. Just one," he shook his head and sighed. "The ballistics from the townhouse killings are here," he said, handing over the sheets to his partner. "Looks like a 25 caliber, 5 grove, left handed twist. Talon rounds, though, so…"

"Cop killers. A female's gun – don't look at me like that, it's a small caliber and would fit in a purse – but with some nasty rounds."

"Did you get the videos from the Pussy Galore club, yet? I sent them to you and Reynolds."

"They're in my in-box. But why send them to Reynolds? That poor canine is going to be watching those horrid kill-videos already."

"Call it a hunch, Carrots. I just have a gut feel on this one. And that 'poor canine' is a Coywolf, and sensitive about it."

"A **_what_**?"

"His father was a red wolf, and his mother was a coyote. Coywolves are a distinct minority, but they do breed true."

"So why did you search that bit of data out? Considering other possible hybrids?" Judy asked, and then leered at the fox.

"Get out of the gutter, Jude," Nick said, then laughed. "Though it would be … interesting. If you crossed a fox with a bunny, what would you get? A 'box', or a 'funny'?"

Judy groaned. "Not a 'funny'. No …" she covered her face with her hands, and tried to stifle the laughter threatening to bubble up from her belly.

Nick's phone pinged. "Got a message from our local Coywolf … take a look." He handed his phone over to the rabbit.

 **Officer Wilde: Please meet me in Scientific Investigations, Computer Crimes Lab. I have something to show you and Lieutenant Hopps concerning the Winters case.**

#

"Ok, Reynolds, what do you have for me?" Judy asked.

"I've cued up the tape from Pussy Galore, and another of those snuff videos that came in while you two," Reynolds pointed with his muzzle, "were out pounding the pavement. And … we roll…" he finished, hitting the "enter" keys on two keyboards at once.

The snuff video showed a vixen in a shower, her fur slicked down. "That's Karen!" Wilde said.

"And the same vixen is in the Pussy Galore video – here – with an unnamed male fox, there!" Reynolds said, pointing at the second video and then freezing the video on a clear view of the male fox's face. "Now, just wait for it…"

The second video continued running. A male fox joined the vixen in the shower. "The video only shows the male from the back," Nick said.

"Just wait," Reynolds said. "Just wait."

Judy looked up at the ceiling as the two foxes began to "get together". "Ok, guys, tell me when they stop 'doing it'," she said, her ears flushing with blood.

"Agreed that sex isn't a spectator sport," Nick said, and chuckled.

The camera viewpoint remained pointing over the shoulder of the male fox, but it panned down to show a knife taped to the middle of the dog fox's back. "Wait for it…" Reynolds said, as the male fox on screen reached behind him to pull the knife off his back.

It happened quickly; there was a great deal of blood, and the camera viewpoint shifted to show the vixen's face just as the knife entered below her sternum. The male's face could be seen clearly, gloating, as the life went out of the vixen's eyes.

"Freeze the replay!" Nick called out, and Reynolds froze the replay. "Blow up the image – on both views of that guy – the Galore tape and … this … thing."

"Can I look down, yet?" Judy asked.

"It's over. But wait a second," Nick said. "Crop the images – just show the guy's face. Then we can run facial recognition software on anyone who has been in view of any of the traffic cams."

"I don't know how to do that!" Reynolds said.

"The cropping, or running the facial recognition software?" Judy asked, still staring at the ceiling.

"I can do the cropping, it's that other…" Reynolds began.

"Well, I know someone who can do it," Nick interrupted. "We've got the captures?" he asked Reynolds; when the coywolf nodded, Nick blanked both screens. "Ok, Carrots, you can look again."

Nick jumped up, looking for the arctic fox. "Candi? Where are you?"

A white furred paw stuck up from behind a cubicle wall. "Over here, Nick."

The red fox grinned. "Just a moment, folks…" he said, and made a beeline for the upthrust paw. He took it in his paws, turned it, and kissed the palm. "We have need of your incredible skills, Candi."

"Oh? What do you need, my favorite flirting foxie man?" Candace Anderson grinned up at Nick.

"Everything that can be found from a video…" he began, then stopped as Anderson grimaced.

"I do **_not_** want to watch another of those sick vids."

"I promise – you won't have to. But you told me about something – the metadata, I think you called it? We need to know when the video was made."

"Give me a sec," Candi said, and pulled up her copy of the latest video. "This the one?"

Nick checked the title. "'Psycho Redux' – yes, it is."

While he waited, and Anderson worked her technical magic, Reynolds and Hopps gathered around to watch.

"Ok, this file was originally created using a Mimex 230 camera with a 50 millimeter lens between two fifteen and two thirty on Monday morning."

"Ok, that's right in the end of our timeline. But how did you get the camera and lens?" Nick asked. "I understand the embedded timestamp, but …"

"There are a whole bunch of CCD – charge coupled devices – think of it as a two dimensional array of millions of tiny solar cells. The cells have different filters, so that some see red, some see yellow, and some see blue light only. The algorithms used to merge the different color cell readings vary from camera to camera. Whoever shot this particular piece of offal used a high quality camera – with a unique algorithm to get **_really_** high definition, high quality images," Anderson said.

Wilde, whose eyes were glazing over, licked his chops nervously. "Ok … Candi. And what can you tell us that helps? And no technical details on how you figured out the lens – just include it in your forensics report."

The vixen laughed. "Fair enough. The Mimex 230 is a high end machine. Costs between eight and ten thousand dollars. As a side item, I can tell you where **_this_** video was made. The other vids were made with lower quality cameras that didn't include the GPS information, but … whoever made this one must not have realized that the Mimex has a few added features," she grinned at the tod, then went mad on the keyboard for a few seconds. "There – sent the coordinates to your phone."

"Ahem," Judy said.

"Ok, I'll send you a copy too, Lieutenant Hopps," Anderson said, tearing her gaze away from the smirking male fox. "Since this is the first of the Mimex 230 products, you might want to check on who rented or bought a Mimex recently."

Nick leaned over and kissed the arctic fox vixen on the forehead. "Love ya, babe! Gotta go, though…got perps to catch!"

#

"Hey, we've got the primary – if this vid isn't fake like the others," Nick said.

"Who is to say that the others are all fake?" Judy asked, as she started the patrol car. "And what was that bit with Anderson?"

"It was a **_hustle_** , sweetheart," Nick said, smirking. "Did you get the search warrant?"

"In my phone, smartass," Hopps said, pausing for a moment to glare at the fox.

"Ah … what did I do wrong, Carrots?"

"It's **_Lieutenant Hopps,_** Patrolman Nicholas Piberius Wilde," Hopps said.

"Middle name … I'm in trouble. Ok, but I just act that way with Candi to move us to the front of the line. And she did get us the information quickly…"

"Did you **_have_** to kiss her?"

"On the forehead. Good grief, L-T! It was just in fun!"

"How do you think it makes me feel, Nick?" Judy said, her voice softening.

"It might hurt just a bit – but it's something I **_do,_** L-T. To get the job done – as quickly and as efficiently as possible."

"We have to talk … later," the rabbit said.

The rest of the drive was in silence, other than traffic noise and the ever present radio transmissions.

#

"Anderson texted me with the name of the only person to rent a Mimex 230 recently – and, surprise, surprise, he's the same person who rented this house: Andrew Joseph Pelter, aka 'Dirk Dingler' in that last video, L-T," Nick said, as they pulled up next to the house in question.

"You can drop the 'L-T', fox. Forgiven, for the moment."

Nick bailed out of the patrol car and removed the ram from the trunk. "I really want to use this, for once," he said.

"Why, Nick? I thought you were the one concerned with the cost of repairs…"

"You didn't have to watch those videos on Monday. If I can get my hands on the perps who made them…"

"Now, Nick," Judy said, as she walked up the steps to the front door of the house, followed by the taller fox. "ZPD, open up, we have a search warrant!" she yelled, as she pounded on the door.

Nick took a deep breath, and hoisted the ram. There was no response, even after a long ten count. "ZPD, open up, we have a warrant, and if you don't open up, we're coming in!" he yelled, a low growl in his voice. Judy drew her trank gun, checked the dart, and held it in a relaxed, two handed grip while Nick silently counted off the seconds. At ten, he lifted the ram and yelled, "we are coming in!" and slammed the heavy metal ram into the door. Once, twice, three times, and the door finally gave way and sprang open with a resounding crash.

"So much for one door," Nick said, as he stepped aside to allow the rabbit to enter with drawn weapon. He dropped the ram and drew his trank gun, checked the dart, and flipped off the safety.

"Clear!" Judy called out, just loud enough for Nick to hear, after she scanned the entryway. She pointed with her muzzle towards the kitchen. Nick leapfrogged her position, and scanned the kitchen.

"Clear," the fox called out. He then covered the rabbit as she leapfrogged his position and moved into the dining room.

"Clear," she called out, and stopped. "Washroom to my right, take it, Nick."

Nick scanned the bedroom, whispered "clear" as he moved back to take the opposite side of the washroom door. "We're coming in, Pelter – make it easy on yourself!" Nick shouted, and the two officers both heard the sound of a toilet flushing.

"Cover me!" Judy said, and opened the door into the washroom. Pelter was standing over the toilet, pouring a bag of transparent capsules – capsules that contained a deep blue colored liquid.

Nick bellowed, "FREEZE! DROP THE BAG!"

Pelter turned slightly, still holding the partially full bag of capsules. He looked the two officers over, smirked, and popped one of the capsules into his mouth.

"Oh sweet cheese and crackers!" Judy managed to say, as Pelter groaned and doubled over. "Call it in, Nick, get a 'bus out here…" she holstered her trank gun, and started to move forward to provide assistance.

Pelter growled deep in his throat, and straightened up; he lashed out with one arm, striking like a club, knocking the rabbit across the washroom, through the curtains and into the shower.

Nick aimed for the center of mass and fired one trank dart; the other fox made an angry sound and leapt onto the LEO. The two of them crashed to the floor, with Pelter on top. "I could use your help, here, Hopps!" Nick shouted, as he struggled to keep Peter's jaws away from his throat. _Let me get through this, I promise I'll work out more_ , he prayed, silently.

Pelter wasn't weakening, despite the trank dart buried in his ribs. "I could use help, please, Judy!" Nick yelled, as Pelter's jaws inched closer to his throat.

Another trank dart hit Pelter in the neck just as his jaws closed on Wilde's throat.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Thursday's Child has far to go…

Hopps forced her baton into Pelter's mouth forced his jaws open and pulled the comatose fox off her partner. "Nick!"

"Alive," Wilde croaked. He reached up and began massaging his throat.

"Let me see," Hopps said, forcing Nick's paws away from his throat. She brushed the throat ruff first one way then the other. "He didn't even break the skin, you ninny!"

Nick shook himself and tried to push both the comatose Pelter and Hopps away. "You didn't have him trying to tear out your throat – nor are you buried under him. Could you please **_get this thug's body off of me?_** " Nick said, his voice rising to a near shout.

Hopps took a deep breath, slid off the furry pile; put her back up against a wall and her feet against Pelter's side. Three kicks and the unconscious perp was off her partner.

"Remind me never to make you mad," Wilde said, as he sat up and pulled out his phone. "Just how many charges did this clown rack up? I'd say battery, resisting arrest, possession of drugs for sale. That would make it 148, 242, and 11351. Can you think of something else?"

"How about 11500 – narcotics violations?" Hopps suggested, holding up one of the transparent capsules. "I don't know for sure what this is, but I'd guess it's something like night howler extract."

"Ok, I'll send it in – along with a good 10-15."

"Yeah, I'd say that we have the suspect in custody," Hopps replied, as she tied Pelter's wrists behind his back with plastic ties. "Oh, and call in a 'bus' for our 'friend' here. He's still breathing for now," she said, after checking for respiration. "But two trank charges for someone with his body weight is probably well into possible O-D range."

"One ambulance, coming up…"

#

The office was quiet for once. Only the sound of keyboard clicks to break the silence. The two officers, Hopps and Wilde, finishing up the paperwork on at least one of their cases.

"You have the CSU report on the primary?" Nick asked.

"Yes – it's file KR160503-Winters. Do you need the file, or just the ID?" Judy responded, not even bothering to look up from her monitor.

"Just the ID is enough. I'm just writing up my summary. Any word from Janet, yet?"

Hopps scowled. "ADA Carolson sent me an e-mail after she finished with Pelter. He's in holding. She's filing attempted murder of a police officer and multiple drug charges – more than enough to hold him over. With the CSU report on that place – with the blood evidence in the drain, the bloody knife with Pelter's fingerprints all over the hilt and his blood in the tang, the DNA evidence tying the knife to the murder of Winters, well… **_why are you using her given name?_** "

"Because she's a **_friend_** , L-T," Wilde's tone took on a slight whine. _Discretion is the better part of valor, and I do not want to make her any madder._ "Can I take some more of the paperwork off your paws?"

The rabbit turned to glare at the fox. "Don't try buttering me up, right now, Mister. And yes, you can. We need to talk."

"Personal, or business?"

"Just what do you think, Piberius Wilde?"

"Personal. Ok, dinner?" Wilde said, exposing his throat to the rabbit.

"You're buying, and yes," Hopps said, scowling and turning back to her monitor. A few keystrokes later, a pop-up appeared on Wilde's monitor, signaling the arrival of e-mail.

"Did ADA Carolson tell you when Pelter will be up for arraignment?"

"She said she'd have him up tomorrow – she has time to present to the Grand Jury this afternoon, and have everything in the indictment that she wants ready for afternoon arraignment in Superior Court. One count murder, one count attempted murder of a police officer, one count possession of a controlled substance for sale, and the whip cream with a cherry on top – resisting arrest."

"What about assault and battery of a police officer – me, remember?"

"Subsumed in the attempted murder of a police officer, Wilde," Hopps said, her voice still cold. "And his battery of a second police officer – also subsumed, in case you're feeling persecuted. Bruising that will keep me out of the gym for at least three or four days. I'm lucky he didn't crack several ribs."

"I could give you a massage … later … if you think it would help," Nick said, rubbing his neck.

"Oh, yeah, it would have been bad if he'd managed to **_really_** bite down on you. 'Blood, blood, blood, … and death'," Judy said, re-enacting her childhood stage act, again, substituting torn up report forms for blood.

Nick sighed. "Over your mad?"

"I can't stay made at you for long, Nick. Besides, given an opportunity to use 'red tape' for dramatic effect…"

Nick groaned theatrically, threw up his paws, and returned to his paperwork.

#

Nick looked at the bill, and took another swallow of his catnip tea. "Ok, it's on me this time. And now that you have had a nice dinner, are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Judy said, dabbing at her lips with the napkin. "Though the dressing was a bit … rich."

"You have another drop on the end of your nose," Nick said.

Judy wiped off the large glob of dressing. "I have just one question for you, that I want answered."

Nick took a deep breath and, after a long five count, let it out with an almost audible 'whoosh'. "I'm waiting."

"I've said what my feelings are towards you, Nick. And while I may lose my temper from time to time – I'm not perfect – I still love you. But to the best of my recollection, you've not told me in clear and concise terms how you feel about me. So … can you answer me – honestly, please, no smartass comments – just how do you feel about me?"

Nick finished off his catnip tea as a delaying tactic. "Honestly?"

"I don't want you sidestepping the issue – and every time you flirt with another vixen, it drives a small spike through my heart. I know I shouldn't be jealous, but if you're going to be the sort who 'steps out', like Winters' husband…"

Nick reached out and covered Judy's paws with his. "I said I prefer monogamous relationships, and I wasn't lieing then, or now."

"Then answer the question, please?"

"If I had an answer, I'd tell you. I don't **_know_** exactly how I feel about you. We're partners."

"That doesn't tell me enough – Fangmire and Francine are partners. I know you have my back, but…"

"We're not the same species."

"Well, what about 'the new guy'? Reynolds is a coywolf – no one would have thought such a fellow was even **_possible_** in my parents' generation. So what does…"

"In their generation, miscegenation laws made inter-species marriages **_illegal_**. Look it up. And I don't **_know exactly_** how I feel about you. I look at you, and I think you're beautiful. Not 'cute' – beautiful. When I'm away from you, I want to be with you. When I'm with you, away from work, I'm happy. But I look around and think about how much your father hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, Nick. He's just … a little bit prejudiced."

"Like someone who was surprised that I was so, 'articulate'?"

Judy winced. "I'd like to think that we've both gotten over a few … original … misconceptions. But you're still dodging the question."

"I won't lie to you, Judy. I can't say that I love you when I'm not sure **_how_** I feel. I have some very mixed feelings – I want to be with you, to make you happy, and at the same time I feel a bit … queasy … about getting in to a romantic relationship with a member of another species. Then I take a look at you, and …" Nick stopped and tried to take another sip of catnip tea, from a now empty mug.

"And what?"

Nick shuddered. "I have … very non-platonic thoughts about you."

Judy laughed. "And you don't think that it was a bit hard for me to have erotic thoughts about a predator?" She brought Nick's hand up to her left cheek. "Feel that?"

"Scars?"

"Yes. Made by a predator when I was nine. A fox. I've forgiven him, since. But do you think that made it easy for me to admit how I feel about you? When you snarl – and you do get angry from time to time – it makes a fur stand up on end, and I want to go into 'full defensive mode'."

"Ok, so you're a bit more grown up than I am."

"You're eight years older than I am, Nick. Are you admitting that a 'dumb bunny' is smarter and more adaptable than the 'sly fox'?"

Nick took a deep breath. "Right now, yes," he said, moving closer and putting his paws on Judy's cheeks. "I'm still trying to work through my feelings for you – and get past some early age conditioning myself. I **_never_** thought that I could feel this way about a prey species member. So can you give me a little time? Please?"

Judy nodded after a moment's thought.

"And my flirting with every vixen that I run across – forgive me, but that's just the way I've always been. All it's been has been flirting – nothing more, nothing less. Another little game that we play."

"Just a **_game_**?"

"Yeah – the rules are known on both sides. It's the oil in the gears rather than emery powder in the societal gears – in **_my_** society. You aren't quite comfortable in 'Foxtown', and I get 'the stare' whenever I'm outside of 'Foxtown' – even when I'm wearing the uniform." Nick let his hands fall to the table between the two of them.

"You really feel that way?"

"Honestly? A lot of the time, yes."

"How did you feel when I 'tucked you in' and … kissed you?"

"I wanted you to join me in my bed."

"Why didn't you say so?"

"Because you would have said, 'no'. And that would have hurt just a bit too much, then. I was on an emotional roller coaster already, and that would have sent me straight off the rails."

"Well, mister 'sly fox', you should reconsider – and when you come to a decision as to just how you feel about me, and where you want our relationship to go – tell me? I am **_not_** very good at reading minds. Deal?"

"Deal. I'll try to figure things out."

"In the meantime, is a kiss goodnight outside your limits when you walk me back to my apartment?"

"I think I can manage that. If we keep it … at least a little bit chaste."

Judy chuckled. "And I can manage that – at least for the moment. Us 'dumb bunnies' do know a bit about multiplying…"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Friday's child is loving and giving

Nick exchanged his uniform for the Hawaiian shirt and slacks from his locker.

"What do you have planned for the weekend?" Fangmire asked, as he changed out of uniform.

"A pint of hard cider, some popcorn, a nice video."

Fangmire laughed. "No lucky rabbit's foot?"

Nick joined in the laughter. "I don't need luck – nor, based on the scuttle, do you."

"Yeah, with you and Hopps filling out paperwork, **_someone_** had to be out there making the city safe for the citizens," Fangmire said, and began brushing the fur on his muzzle.

"Got a hot date, Fangs?"

"With 'she-who-must-be-obeyed'. We managed to get a sitter who can handle three wolf pups for the night, and we're going to try out that new seafood place in the Marina."

Nick chuckled. "Well, more power to you. After what you accomplished today, you deserve a bit of 'time off for good behavior'."

"Yeah, putting paid to the perps making those damn knife-kill videos is one 'for the good guys'," Fangmire said, and smacked the small fox in the shoulder as he left the locker room; "Take care of yourself, Wilde. We need LEOs like you out on the street."

"Right," Nick called out to the wolf's back. "Better on this side than the other." _And he's right. It doesn't matter so much that someone else got the collar; what matters is that the collar was made. 'Course, there's still paper work and court appearances, but … we'll put the requisite nails in the coffin. Later._

#

"You promised not to drink so much cider, Nick!" were Judy's first words as she came through the door.

Nick held up his favorite 32 ounce mug. "This isn't cider – it just **_looks_** like cider."

"What is it, just straight apple juice?"

"No, Carrots. It's catnip tea. The color – at the strength I brew it – is much the same. Care for a sip?" Nick's grin stretched back until it threatened to cut his head in half.

Judy closed the distance, and sniffed at the offered mug. "Tea. You faker! You told Fangmire that you…" she stopped, as she realized that she'd just disclosed one of her confidential sources.

"Gotcha! Fangs just can't keep his mouth shut, when it comes to dealing with the prettiest lieutenant in Precinct 1," Nick exclaimed.

"Don't take it out on him," Judy said, as she slipped past the fox and on to his couch.

"Considering that you've got him wrapped around your middle finger, and his wife has got her brush wrapped tightly around his throat, the poor chap can't move without strangling or dislocating a major limb," Nick smirked. "I wouldn't **_dream_** of putting him through any more stress. Besides, with his work clearing that video case today – in record time – neither I nor our friendly coywolf rookie will have to do anything more than a bit of paperwork on Monday."

"Go easy on Reynolds, Nick. He's fresh out of the Academy, and he does **_not_** have a powerful mentor…"

"Getting a bit of a swelled head, are we?"

"Hardly. I closed the missing mammal and the subsequent Night Howler case…"

"With **_my_** help, I would remind you…"

"With significant **_civilian_** assistance, yes. Which lead to a certain civilian getting in to the Academy, and then – as a result of his considerable effort – that same civilian graduated at the top of his class. And has since helped…"

" ** _Helped?_** "

"Ok, **_closed_** several major cases. With assistance from various key personnel in scientific investigations as well as the crime scene unit, not to mention the DA's office, not to mention his partner."

"Ok, so I didn't do it all on my own – but then, neither have you."

"Is it a competition?"

"Well … to a certain extent, yes. For me, it's a bit of a game…"

"Pretty serious game," she said.

"Ok, serious, but still a bit of a game. Just like a really neat **_hustle_** , where you're trying to figure out the mark's weakness so you can best exploit it. We're running under a well-documented set of rules, but that just makes the game more interesting. How much fun would it be to play tennis, for example, with the net down?"

"What would you know about tennis – unless you're talking about table tennis?"

"No, the 'real thing'. I've been taking lessons."

Judy laughed. "When do you have time?"

"Weekends and weekday nights. Why do you think I've been vanishing most Tuesday and Sunday nights? I've been …" he stopped and blushed.

"Ok, **_who_** have you been taking lessons from?"

Nick sighed. "Janet Carolson. But it's just …"

"When did you start?"

"Two weeks ago, Carrots. And it's _real_ tennis lessons. Against someone roughly my own size – she's much better than I am, so I am learning a **_lot_** from her."

"Is tennis all you're learning from her?" Judy asked, her grin suddenly appearing forced.

Nick leaned over and licked the rabbit's nose. "Realio trulio. That, and I'll admit, forming a working friendship with an ADA – something that cannot help but improve **_our_** workload and situation in the department."

Judy shook her head, and sighed. "Someday, I'm going to catch you killing fewer than two birds with one stone."

"Not this time, though. Remember what you said about exercise? Well, running back and forth is pretty good exercise."

"It isn't weight training…"

"I promise to start that … next week. Small steps. I'll never match your performance on the leg press, though."

Judy giggled. "Check – you haven't got the legs for it. But I have to make up for lack of size and mass. Something you should think about, too. You weigh, what? Eighty pounds dry…"

"Ninety four pounds dripping wet, I will have you know!" Nick interrupted, a low growl in his voice as he responded with mock outrage.

Judy shook her head. "I stand – or sit – corrected." She patted the couch beside her. "Bring the popcorn, and sit down where we can cuddle while we watch the video. What did you choose this time?"

"A classic – **Bunny Burrow Burning**."

"I've not heard of it…is it another post-apocalyptic movie?"

"No – it's about a rather grim historical event. Fifty years ago, three civil rights workers went missing. In Bunny Burrow. The Mammal Bureau of Investigation sent agents into the area to investigate, but local authorities refused to cooperate. The movie stars Gene Wolfman as a senior MBI agent, and William Dakitten as a junior agent. The local predator community was afraid to cooperate with the MBI, and in the movie the two agents clash over strategy. There's some good acting, and … yes, it is based on actual events."

"That doesn't sound like a good popcorn movie. Things have improved for predators in the last fifty years. Don't you have any romantic comedies in your growing library?"

Nick grinned. "I think that we're **_living_** in a romantic comedy sometimes. The only romcom that I have purchased recently is **Sleepless in Zootopia**."

"I'm glad you liked my copy. So how about using my NetFlicks account? We could watch **Miss Congeniality**."

"Sandra Bull as an MBI agent? Ok, I haven't seen it, but I did hear about it. You'll have to get it on your phone and feed it to the TV – have you got the cable?"

Judy grinned and pulled the requisite connector cable out of her purse.

"Ok, you get the download, I'll start the popcorn. I know when I'm beaten…"

#

"Now, wasn't that a better movie than … some grimdark historical?" Judy asked, looking up at the fox whose chest she was using as a headrest.

"I bow to the superior knowledge of the rabbit. But we should set aside time for **Bunny Burrow Burning** **_someday_**.

"Well, speaking of Bunny Burrow, you've never been there…" Judy said, as she began playing with the fox's ventral fur, with a paw that had somehow been slipped under Nick's shirt.

"I know when I'm defeated. So, when have you planned for a 'little trip' to visit your folks?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"Have you already purchased the tickets?"

"Well …"

"What time do you have us scheduled to leave?"

"The midnight express. Tonight."

Nick looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "I think I can get something together to wear for the next two days. I hope you've picked up return tickets for Sunday."

"In my purse."

"Give me a few minutes to pack, and we can leave. Your bags are back at your apartment?"

"Well…"

"Ok, I pack, then we go to your apartment, pick up your bags, then back to the Pine street station, and then take the A-train to the Savanah main station. We should get there with time to spare … if we get moving now."

"Mmmm…."

"And that means, you'd better get your hand out of my shirt, or we'll be here **_way_** too late to catch the express."

Judy sighed, withdrew her paw, and rebuttoned the fox's shirt.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Midnight Run

Nick checked his watch. It was five minutes later than when he'd last checked. _Two hundred eleven miles, a three and a half hour train trip. Still more than two hours to go._ He looked down at his sleeping partner. _So I am reduced to providing a lap as pillow for a sleeping rabbit. A sleeping rabbit who snores._ The fox sighed. _Little, or no, sleep tonight_.

He looked down at the sleeping rabbit, and thought (briefly) of what he might do with an indelible ink marker on her facial fur. Then, considering carefully the likely retaliation, decided against such action, though reluctantly.

He checked his watch again; another five minutes, and still a good two hours to go.

#

"Wake up, Carrots. We're almost there," Nick said, reaching over and tickling the rabbit's feet.

Hopps' foot jerked, and she rolled over, attempting to bury her face in the fox's lap.

Nick sighed, then leaned over and blew on the back of the rabbit's neck. "Wakey, wakey, bunnybutt…"

Hopps' brought her paws up and clasped them behind her neck. To all appearances, she was still sleeping soundly; the soft buzzing of the lapine's snore continued unabated.

Nick shook his head, from side to side. Then took a deep breath, "Sleeping in? You're **_dead, country girl!_** " his voice rose to a shout. " **I WANT YOUR DOR** **[1]** **!** "

Hopps rolled out of Nick's lap, caught herself and bounced upright. She looked about, ears down and nose twitching, a frightened look on her face. Then she turned to face Nick, and scowled. "That was **_not_** funny, Nick."

"Wasn't intended to be, Carrots. The other tricks I tried to wake you up didn't work. You just started to burrow into my lap…"

Hopps' paws went to her face, as blood flooded into her now erect and twitching ears. "I was resting in your lap, and …"

Nick grinned as the lapine doe came more awake. "Just imagine where your nose was rubbing, Carrots…" he said, and he couldn't resist the impulse to leer at her, and lick his chops lasciviously.

"Oh, sweet cheese and crackers! I didn't mean…"

"Relax, Carrots," Nick interrupted, reached out and patted her head. "you were non compos mentis, and I don't hold you accountable. If you did that when you were awake, on the other hand…" he leered at her.

Hopps shook herself and took a deep, calming breath. "How long before we get to BB?"

"My guess? About fifteen minutes. Assuming that we're on time, that is. It's three fifteen by my watch, and we left on time. Who can we expect to be waiting for us at the station?"

"One of my sisters at a guess – probably Elizabeth – she's the most responsible. She'll be going away to college in the fall."

Nick chuckled. "How do you keep them all straight? You told me that you have two hundred seventy-five siblings. That makes for a lot of names and faces."

Judy seated herself next to the fox and leaned against him. "Don't really know how – I just do. There were always new sisters and brothers, by the time I was nine we had a full house. Dad kept adding rooms, and we … I suppose we made a game of it."

"I suppose. And as long as it isn't your father picking us up, I suppose I can deal with it."

"Now, Nick, he really isn't **_that_** bad."

"You didn't have him threatening you – 'if you come down here, I will not be responsible for the consequences'. And I rather doubt that 'and foxes are the worst' was something that you just thought up yourself – that sort of…"

"What?! I never said anything like that to you!"

"No, but you did write it in your day timer app."

"I was writing about what my dad told me when I left for Zootopia. And just what were you doing digging through **_my_** files?"

"Wasn't digging through anything," Nick said. "When you sent me your request to get together today – no, yesterday – evening, you attached the wrong file." He dug out his own phone, and brought up the note.

"Oh no! I didn't mean…" Judy began, and then stopped, her mouth open as she read her own words on the fox's phone.

"I'll let you delete it … in 48 hours," Nick said, and chuckled.

#

"Hihihihihi!" the lapine doe squealed and leapt at Judy, wrapping her in a hug reminiscent of a boa constrictor's grasp.

"Calm down, Lizzie!" Judy managed to say. "I'd like you to meet someone … so can you let up a bit?"

"Okeydokey!" Elizabeth Hopps said, relaxing her hold on her older sister … slightly. "You'restrongerwithmuchbettermuscletone!" she fired out.

"Slow down, Lizzie! And disentangle!" Judy said, and began unwrapping her sister.

Nick stepped up and took one of the second lapine doe's paws. "My name is Nicholas Wilde, and I'm your sister's partner on the Zootopia Police Department."

"Partner?" Elizabeth's eyes widened. "OOOOOH!JUDEAREYOU'DOINGIT'WITH-MISTERCUTEFOXIE?"

"Lizzie! Slow down! And … no, we're not…"

"Ifyou'renotdoinghim,whynot?HelooksreallyeatableandwithwhatI'veheardaboutfoxies…" Elizabeth machine-gunned.

"Calm down, Miss Hopps," Nick said, keeping his voice relaxed and professional. He looked down at the second doe, and grinned a friendly grin. "I understand that you will be providing a ride for us to your parent's farm?"

Elizabeth looked first at her sister, then at Wilde, and then back and forth, like a spectator at some mad tennis match.

"Lizzie, calm down. I know you're excited, but Officer Wilde and I have both been up way past our accustomed bed times…"

Elizabeth's nose wiggled. "Mattress maul…"

"No, Lizzie. But we need to get to the farm, so we can both get some sleep – **_in separate beds in separate rooms_** ," Judy said.

"Okeydokey, sis. You'll have to sit on foxie's lap – you know there's not enough room in the truck cabin…" Elizabeth said.

"We'll ride in the truck bed – you'll just have to drive a little more cautiously than your usual demolition derby style," Judy said.

#

"It might have been better if we'd just rented a car," Nick said, as he tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the truck bed.

"Use the blanket, Nick. And what happened to Mister 'monetary conservation', hmmm? Car rentals cost. Besides, having one of the family drive us…"

"One of **_your_** family, fluffy. And what have you been telling her – and your family – about us? She sounded as though she expected us to start 'making out' in front of her, like a couple of hormone drenched teenagers. And what was that 'what she's heard about foxies' remark about?"

Judy's ears flushed with blood, and she covered her mouth with both paws.

"Ok, now I **_know_** that it's something embarrassing, Carrots. So what was she talking about?"

"I'd really rather not discuss it," Judy mumbled.

"Fair enough. Now's time that the 'honesty' agreement bites back, Carrots. Give."

Judy took a deep calming breath. "Rabbit bucks don't … last very long. It's sort of a 'slam bang thank you ma'am situation."

Nick laughed, turned to face the lapine doe and held his paws up, palms pointed towards her ears.

"What's that about, Nick?"

"Just warming my paws on the heat from your ears…" he said. Judy kicked the smirking fox in his side.

"Ooof! That wasn't nice."

"Wasn't intended to be."

"So," Nick chuckled, "foxes have a reputation for 'lasting longer' than your own species' males?" Judy nodded.

"Well, you do get … 'entangled'."

"Only with vixens or, if you are going to talk interspecies sex, with canids. The 'locking mechanism' is really on the female side of things, after all," Nick said, unable to keep a smirk off his face. "And so foxes are 'preferred' out here in hickland?"

Judy looked up at the sky and sighed. "Lizzie is a bit … precocious. Don't mind her – she's also not representative of the general population."

"But she is one of your sisters, so … evidently your father's prejudices haven't contaminated everyone in the hutch," Nick said.

"Think about it, Nick! It's another side of the coin. But **_I_** still love you – even if you can't quite make up **_your_** mind how you feel about me."

Nick shook his head. "It's not that I can't make up my mind entirely – it's just that I don't want to 'fly under false colors'. Until I'm **_sure_** how I feel, I don't want to claim any particular feelings for you. Isn't it enough that I've got your back – and have had it since **_before_** I was on the force?"

"Since when?"

Nick took a deep breath. "Remember when we took our little dive down the toilet at Cliffside?"

"How could I forget?" Judy asked. "It was one heck of a ride."

"When we hit the water, I was … a little bit frantic. I called out for you three times – I called you 'Carrots', then 'Hopps', then 'Judy'."

"I only heard the last, Nick."

"Well, I was rather amazed that I was still alive, and the thought that you might not be…well I 'let it show' that someone had gotten to me."

Judy reached over and patted the foxes' paw. "That's sweet, Nick. Maybe sometime soon you'll figure out enough about how you feel about me to tell me?"

"I'm trying, Judy, I'm trying…"

* * *

[1] DOR = Drop On Request.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Meeting the Family

Nick rolled over and opened sleep encrusted eyes. The sounds of an active farm and the early morning sun made further sleep impossibility. He stared up at the roof of the barn – his temporary abode – and groaned. _Six am – two hours sleep on towel hastily thrown over a pair of hay bales_. _Even sleeping under a bridge was better,_ he thought, as he rose and tried to stretch his muscles into usability. _My mouth tastes like this loft smells – dusty, dried out, and redolent of fertilizer._ He made a face, grabbed some clean clothes out of this overnight bag. _The only good thing about this is that Judy's father was asleep when we got in, and he is likely out working now._

Dressed in clean clothes (another of his myriad Hawaiian shirts and tan pants) he crept down the wood ladder towards the barn floor.

"Hihihihi!" Elizabeth Hopps shot gunned out, just as Nick stepped off the last rung of the ladder. Nick slowly turned to face her. He blinked a few times, trying vainly to clear his blurry vision. Then he snapped out his aviator glasses and put them on, trying to postpone the beginnings of what likely would be a terrible headache. Elizabeth bounced up and down in place, a cheery smile on her face.

"Hello … Miss Elizabeth Hopps," he said, keeping his morning pre-catnip tea growl to a sub vocal minimum.

The lapine doe closed the distance between them, grabbed a firm hold on a vulpine arm, and began dragging a half-somnambulant Wilde towards the barn door. "Momhasbreakfastreadyfor-youandsis! You'llhaveplentyoftimetosleepinthegrave! AndhaveyoubeenmattressmaulingJude?" she said, smiling and continuing to bounce.

Nick stared down at the rabbit, and struggled to parse her machine-gunned speech into comprehensibility. "Thank you, breakfast would be very nice. And yes, time enough. But … no. She is my **_partner_**. We cover each other's backs on the street."

"Thatdoesn'tmeanyoucan't,doesit?" Elizabeth said, as they reached the barn doors. "You're- ** _slow_** thismorning!"

Nick took a deep breath. It was clearly going to be a long day on minimal sleep. "The fact is, we haven't engaged in anything more intense than a kiss or two. And yes, after only two hours sleep, it takes a while for me to get moving."

"Butthesunisup! Haveyoudonetongueatleast?"

Nick picked up the pace in response to another tug from the bouncing bunny. Then he paused, as he managed to translate this last statement. "No, I have not." He shook his head and sighed. A very long day.

"Areyoutwo ** _not_** athing,then? Soyou'dbeopentoplayingwithanotherbunny?"

Nick carefully escaped from Elizabeth's grip. "We're partners, and no," he answered, careful to keep his voice calm and neutral. Then he picked up his pace and began jogging towards the main house, despite the pain that was beginning to flash up from his neck to crown his head at each step.

Bonnie Hopps met him on the porch with a large mug of catnip tea; a few words from the mistress of the house and Elizabeth bounded off to continue her interrupted chores.

"I hope that Lizzie wasn't too much of a bother, Mister Wilde."

"Please, call me Nick, and no. Though she was just a bit … inquisitive … regarding rather sensitive matters," Nick managed to say, before he closed his eyes and began lapping up the morning fluid-of-life.

Bonnie Hopps took the vulpine's arm and guided the barely awake Nick into the main house and settled him in a large arm chair that had been moved into a small dining area. Nick scanned the open space, noted that the one table would seat roughly thirty rabbits.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hopps. This is …" he began.

"Morning, Nick!" Judy said, as she bounced into the dining area and settled into a chair next to Nick, a large mug of coffee in her hand. "Been up for half an hour – sun up, get up, on a farm. No sleeping in here!"

Nick turned to face Judy. "Bunny – five hours sleep. Fox – two hours sleep. Have mercy?"

Bonnie looked from her daughter to the fox and back again. "Go easy on him, Judy. He's a city boy, after all. And he needs his breakfast," she finished as she bounced off into the kitchen.

"Is **_everyone_** bouncy here?" Nick asked.

"When you get up with the sun, yes. Can't afford to waste **_any_** time on a farm, Nick. Plenty of mouths to feed, and lots of field work to do. If it isn't planting, weeding, fighting bugs, or harvesting, it's repairing equipment, negotiating with buyers at the co-op, negotiating with the banks, or praying for more or less rain…"

Nick held up his paws. "I give up – ok, it's a lot of work, and there obviously aren't any weekends…"

"There is Sunday, Nick."

"Hmph! You mean you actually get a chance to rest for one day a week?"

"Well, not exactly. Church in the morning, then back to work in the afternoon…"

Nick shook his head. "No **_wonder_** you wanted to get to the big city. No matter how much grief, it was bound to be less physical work than in the farmlands."

"Guess you never thought how much effort went in to getting that food on your plate," Bonnie Hopps said, as she brought in two plates – one full of fried insects, the other piled high with blueberries, strawberries, and a half pound of smoked salmon.

Nick looked once at the pile of food the elder Hopps sent in front of him, and after a murmured "thanks!" dug in with gusto.

#

Nick sat on the porch swing, Judy next to him. "Now who is going to have to jog a few extra miles?" Judy asked.

Nick laughed. "If that is the sort of breakfast that I could expect as a farm worker, the physical labor would almost be worth it. Your mother is an excellent cook – but how did she find out what a predator like me would like?"

It was Judy's turn to laugh. "Do you actually think that you're the **_only_** fox in the tri-borough area? Gideon Grey is a pastry chef that has been working with my parents since not long after I left for Zootopia – and he has dinner with them at least once a month. He brings the pies and cakes – and should I say that he's an excellent baker as well?"

"So they roll out the red carpet for predators – even to going into business with one. But then why does your father dislike **_me_** so much?"

Judy sighed. "Dad doesn't always make sense, ok? He's … old fashioned … about a lot of things. Being a conservative is … natural … for an agriculturalist. When change is bad – and for a farmer, change is almost invariably bad – you can get into the mindset of fearing change."

Nick snorted. "See the stranger, fear the stranger, hate the stranger, kill the stranger. I'm surprised that he hasn't dragged out a shotgun." Nick held up a hand to forestall the lapine doe's immediate response. "I know, he's out in the fields somewhere, doing farm work, and was up well before the sun doing it."

"And Dad wouldn't **_actually_** get out his shotgun…"

"He **_has_** one? I was joking. Just how much ordnance **_is_** there 'out here'?"

"Nothing unusual. But I knew how to handle a shotgun, a rifle, or a 45 caliber pistol before I was twelve. Dad has a 30-06, a double barrel shotgun, a pump action shotgun, a 38 revolver, two 45 semi-automatics, a 22 rifle for just 'plinking', and …"

Nick shuddered. "Ok, I shouldn't antagonize your father unnecessarily. And it's another in a growing list of reasons I shouldn't needlessly antagonize you. I take it that you don't have any trouble qualifying?"

Judy laughed. "Last month I qualified with a score of 98."

"Static target or combat?"

"Static. I didn't go for the combat shooting qualification – I do **_not_** want to end up on a SWAT team, thank you very much mister Wilde. What was your qualification score?"

"What do you think your mother will prepare for dinner?" Nick asked.

"Ahem. I told you mine, now you tell me yours…"

Nick took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "75 on static target."

"That's **_barely_** qualifying!"

"No – it's passing by 5 points. Passing is 70. And how many of us ever have to really **_use_** a weapon? Francine hasn't drawn a weapon except to qualify in over five years…"

It was Judy's turn to snort. "Who in their right mind would argue with **_her_**? One smack with that trunk of hers and even McHorn would be on the deck. She doesn't **_need_** a pistol to take down a perp!"

"Ok, when was the last time that **_anyone_** in the precinct had to use a pistol?" Nick asked. "And I do not count the trank dart guns."

Judy looked up at the sky, her nose wiggled, and she tried to bring to mind all the reports she'd had to read since she started on the force. "I can't recall any officer involved shootings. Not even during the peak of the Night Howler case. But we had to use tranks on Pelter."

"Doesn't really count – non-lethal weapon. And the range then was point blank – my shot was at less than six feet, yours couldn't have been more than three or four."

"We still need to be able to place our shots accurately – how would you have liked it if I'd hit you instead of Pelter?"

Nick laughed. "Not particularly – we'd likely not be holding this conversation if you'd missed that badly. But you wouldn't shoot me **_intentionally_** would you?"

Judy looked up at the fox and paused, as if in thought. "Hmmm…."

"Now you're beginning to scare me…"

#

"Come on, Nick, it's time for dinner," Judy said, as she lead him back into the burrow. As Nick turned to head back to the room he'd had breakfast in, Judy tugged harder and moved him towards a different, larger room.

"Dinner is served here, in shifts, Nick," Judy said.

Nick scanned the much larger dining area. "I … see. Well, with two hundred odd offspring to feed, I suppose I can understand a larger room might be needed. But I had breakfast in a somewhat smaller room – what was that about?"

"Oh, that's for guests – special guests, Nick," Judy said, holding on to him possessively. "And it's two hundred seventy-six kids in the family, Nick," she said, and guided him to a pair of open seats at one of the tables around the rim.

Nick looked down at the floor, then at the wall. "We're moving…"

"Yes, during meal times, this dining room rotates – you're supposed to be finished by the time the floor makes a complete rotation."

"Ah, so when that picture," he pointed at a portrait of two dour looking rabbits, one male one female, the male holding a pitchfork, "is in the center of my field of view, we should be up and off to wherever you've planned for 'after dinner'?"

"Exactly. You're getting the hang of living here. The smaller ones clear the used dishes and bring out readied meals. Your meal is special though…"

Nick looked at the large salad bowls being carried out by diminutive rabbits. "I've said it before, 'salad is not food…'"

Judy reached over and gently but firmly shut the fox's muzzle. "I'd advise against you finishing that little 'pat phrase' of yours, here. Remember where you are, Mister Wiseguy – and here comes my dad!"

Nick rose and held out one paw to the older rabbit buck. Stu Hopps glared up at the taller fox, "Just what are your intentions for my daughter, Jude?" He ignored the proffered paw, and continued to glare at the fox.

Nick shrugged, let his paw fall back to his side, but he remained standing. "My intentions are entirely honorable, I assure you, sir."

Stu snorted, and looked over at Judy, ignoring the vulpine's response for the moment. "And you? Just what is the 'trier' planning on? Have you two **_done_** anything?"

Judy looked up at the ceiling. "No, dad, we haven't 'done' anything. Has Lizzie been telling tall tales?" The unspoken "again" hung in the air.

"No, Jude the Dude, this isn't your sister acting out again. But with the news we get of you – is this **_thing_** your partner?"

"That 'thing', dad, **_is_** my partner, and he has a name – Nicholas Wilde. He is a valuable officer in the ZPD, as I am. He has my back, and I have his. And asking him what his feelings are will get you pretty much nowhere."

"And why is that?" Stu asked, then turned back to face Nick before Judy could answer. "Are you just leading my daughter on? If your intentions are 'honorable'," Stu made "air quotes", "why haven't you made clear to her what they are? And if you have, what **_are_** your intentions?"

Nick resumed his seat, if for no other reason than to bring himself down to a level with the shorter rabbit. "As **_Lieutenant Judy Hopps_** said, I have her back and she has mine. We are serving in a job that is, I am sorry to say, sometimes both physically and mentally dangerous."

Stu's eyes opened wide, and he began to say something but Nick waved him to silence.

"We have both risked our **_lives_** for each other on more than one occasion. You may not understand this, but under such circumstances 'buddies' form a strong emotional bond. It is something that goes beyond any simple romantic relationship. And as to what my intentions are in detail? They are to keep your daughter as safe as I can manage."

"Now just a minute, Nicholas Piberius – I can protect myself, thank you very much!" Judy interrupted.

Nick shrugged. "Acknowledged, L-T. But it doesn't change my intentions. Just as I am morally certain that you are going to do your best to keep my furry person intact."

Judy kicked her partner under the table. " _L-T?"_ she said, sotto voce.

"That doesn't answer my question, Wilde! Just what do you plan on doing with my daughter?"

"As I said, I plan to 'have her back' when we're on the streets in Zootopia. We see each other off the job – but that's nothing unusual with partners. But … we have our own apartments, **_and we are sleeping in them_**. We have not crossed any interspecies boundaries, does that make it clear enough for you? We are partners right now – nothing less. And that is a bond that is a far closer bond than you think – or, I gather, than you can understand. 'We few, we band of brothers'," Nick said, his muzzle curling up in the beginning of a snarl, his ears creeping back in anger.

Judy kicked him under the table again. "Dad, would you back off? And Nick – we don't need another case of testosterone poisoning here! One is enough!"

Both males took deep breaths, before Stu turned and began to walk away. "Then I'll leave you two alone – but I'll be watching you, Wilde – I'll be watching you!"

Once Stu was out of earshot, Nick took another deep breath and let it out with a "whoosh". "That could have gone better, I suppose," he said, "but it could have also gone a lot worse."

Judy looked up at Nick. "But … is that **_all_** I am to you? A 'partner'? Someone to watch your back, whose back you also must watch?"

"Did I say, 'all'? I didn't lie to your father…"

"But you didn't tell him all the truth?"

"Well, who among us knows 'all' of the truth? I **_think_** I know what your feelings are towards me. And I'm in the process of sorting out what **_all_** of my feelings are towards you. When I have them worked out, **_then_** I can tell you what they all are. But in the meantime, I can't tell you more than what I know myself."

"So you're still confused?"

"In a word, 'yes'. Remember me? The fox that has a bit of difficulty 'letting them know when they get to me'. Emotions are difficult, and exposing emotions is even more difficult."

Judy reached over and patted the fox on the shoulder. "Then we'll just have to work through it. Deal?"

"Deal," Nick replied.

The rest of the meal was spent in companionable silence.

#

Nick rolled over on the bale of hay. _I am officially going to be stiff for a week,_ he thought, as he pried open sleep encrusted eyes. He looked down on the loft's floor. _Some kind soul, at least, has left me a hand towel and a bowl of clean water. Not deep enough to bury my head in – more's the pity. But beggars can't be choosers. Have to get ready to join the herd on their one morning of semi-rest._ A few minutes effort, and his eyes were clear and, while a bit more work could be done, the worst of the dust and twigs were removed from his fur – his facial fur, at least. _The rest won't show_.

It wasn't until he was finished and he was putting away the towel and bowl that he saw the small card stuck underneath the bowl. _A phone number and a name. How 'cute'._

#

Nick shook his head, sadly, as he walked out, arm-in-arm with Judy, after the sermon finished. "It's either highly ironic, the topic of your pastor's sermon, don't you think?"

"I don't know – why do you think so?"

"Choosing Proverbs 11:29-30. 'He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind, and the fool shall be the servant to the wise of heart'."

"I didn't know that you were a biblical scholar, Nick. Or have you just memorized the bible? The pastor didn't quote chapter and verse…"

"But his theme was bloody obvious. Now, just when were those return tickets for?"

Judy sighed. "You can take the boy out of the city…"

"But you can't take the city out of the boy. How long before we can blow this hick town and get back to where the action is?"

"We have to be at the station in half an hour. Just time enough to get there if we hurry."

"Sounds like a plan to me…"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: It ain't over 'till it's over…

"Fangmire, Francine, you're to handle the robbery in Tundratown – 5th and Logan Streets, address is in the packet. Hopps, Wilde, you're on the kill-video case – get Fangmire's case notes on this one before you go…" Bogo rattled through the day's assignments. Just as everyone was about to disperse, Bogo looked out and over the bullpen crowd. "There's been word about the drug used in the Pelter case – it's a synthetic night howler extract, it's limited duration effect, and it can result in hysterical strength, **_so be careful out there, and make sure your tranquilizer guns are 'on ready'_**."

#

Wilde skimmed through his copy of Fangmire's notes as Hopps sat, waiting for him to finish. "Fangs did a good job on Friday and over the weekend."

"Finished, yet? I'd like to see those notes myself some time before the end of the next decade, foxie!" Hopps stood next to the fox, the thumping of one foot passing the 20 hertz stage.

Wilde looked up and carefully handed over the notes. "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. What's bothering you, Carrots?"

"I got another call from my dad after we got back."

"Anything you'd care to talk about?"

"Aside from the fact that Lizzie is going to be on the evening express, and he's holding me – and you – responsible for her 'abandoning the family'."

"Ah…your apartment is a bit small for two, isn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it, now. This case should be our prime focus. And with the additional information that Fangmire dredged up … over the weekend? Does that guy ever sleep?"

Nick began to laugh but stopped as he noticed the deepening scowl on the rabbit's face. _Better follow the party line on this one_. "Well, L-T, he was trying to move the case along – and we knew where it would land once we got back…"

"Did you 'arrange' something…"

"Well … let's just say, I made a little deal with him – more of a bet, actually, and …"

Hopps covered her face with both paws. "I know I probably shouldn't ask, but when did you 'arrange' this?"

"While we were on the 'Midnight Express'."

"Fangmire doesn't sleep, does he?"

"I promised if he made some progress on the case while we were in Bunnyburrow, we'd do the paperwork for him…"

"For how long?"

"Do we need to go in to that right now? It was for a worthy cause…"

"And Fangmire can always be conned into doing more legwork in exchange for paperwork…"

"Which we…"

"You mean, 'I', Nick, don't you?" Hopps interrupted. Her paws were down at her side now, and her foot was beginning to vibrate…tapping the floor at roughly 40 hertz.

"Well…you do the paperwork so much better than I do, L-T, and besides, it's necessary to get the i's dotted and the t's crossed – something that you are **_so_** good at…"

"Nick. You. Owe. Me."

"O.K, L-T, but shouldn't we be trying to tie up loose ends? There are still some left, despite Fangmire's diligent work this weekend."

The tapping hit peak at 80 hertz and continued for another twenty seconds. "Drop the 'L-T', Wilde."

"If I can call you 'Carrots' without having you try to bite my head off?"

"Yes, now get your gear together and we're moving out. What was the address of that first location?"

"180 West 130th Street – right in the middle of Foxtown," Wilde said. "Fangs has it marked down as the most likely source of the bulk of those videos. Pity is that they've not used the higher end cameras to be sure, but …"

"Nick, I guess we'll have to rely on your contacts for this one…"

"If we don't call in backup – that's right in the middle of things – and I don't imagine that the local residents are going to be all that happy to see ZPD."

"Are you afraid, Nick?"

"Carrots, there are places where the only sane response is to be afraid."

"You've been in to Mr. Big's home – and you told me that Katrina Ivanov was more of a threat than Mr. Big, but you weren't afraid to walk into her den."

"We went in to one of Katrina's fringe businesses – and now you want to go into the lion's den?"

Judy closed with the fox, reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Nick. I'll watch your back."

"That's what I'm afraid of, Carrots. We go, but we need to get backup as we go – McHorn and Profaci are on SWAT. I have a hunch we'll need it."

"Profaci? I'd have thought you'd go with someone bigger, Nick."

"Tony is almost as big as Fangmire, Carrots. And he is faster and has a better weapons' score than Fangs – and Fangs is an **_incredible_** marksman. Think it through, Carrots. And call them up – I'm betting that we'll need backup."

"Ok, Nick. But I think you're being paranoid."

"Sometimes, Carrots, even paranoids have real enemies."

#

"The ram, Nick?" Hopps asked.

"Right here – and we may need it. Take a look at that door. And…" Nick was interrupted by a scream, loud even through the outer door of the brownstone.

"Sweet cheese on a cracker!" Hopps said, as Wilde attacked the door with the ram; McHorn and Profaci to either side with long arms raised. Three swings and the door went down with a crash, and with a bellow of "ZPD Freeze!" McHorn and Profaci dove through past the wreckage into the building. The door frame and a yard of brickwork to either side exploded outward.

Nick found himself several yards back from the entryway, flat on his back. For some reason, he couldn't get up, and he couldn't hear anything. He blinked, trying to clear something out of his eyes; trying to raise a paw to brush debris away wasn't possible for some reason. He coughed, then managed to lift his head and look down at the ruin of his flak vest.

He let his head settle back to the ground. It was so much easier that way. His partner, Carrots, popped into his field of view. She was saying something – her lips were moving – but he couldn't hear. There was a ringing in his ears, but no other sound. He was terribly cold, but it wasn't a painful cold, just … cold.

"HANG ON, NICK! YOU HAVE TO HANG ON!" Judy was now yelling; it sounded to Nick as though she was whispering over the sound of a terrible ringing alarm clock.

That was when a chill ran down his back. He coughed again, and tasted a coppery taste in his mouth. _Internal bleeding?_ "I'm sorry, Carrots," he managed to say before he coughed, and spat out bloody sputum. _Bad._ Nick gasped, trying to suck in one more lungful of air. "I love you, Carrots…" and then the blackness swallowed him.

#

Nick came out of anesthesia with a start; the smell of disinfectant was strong in the air. He looked down; he was under a white sheet, except for his right arm. Tubes emerged from his arm, which had been largely shaved of fur. Wires lead from equipment by the bed to the edge (and under?) the sheet. He focused on the end of his muzzle; a cannula ran from his nose to a pump beside the bed. He twitched his ears; there was a regular, almost metronomic soft beeping sound from a massive instrument sitting beside his bed.

It seemed to be late afternoon, based on the light streaming in through the window. _At least I got a window room,_ he thought, his mind unusually clear. He turned his head slightly, and could almost see whoever else was in the room; someone was sitting just out of his field of view, and for some reason he couldn't move his head far enough to see who.

"Hello?" he tried to say; it came out as more of a croak.

An unfamiliar bunny face popped into view. She looked anxious. "I'llcallJudeandtellher-thatyou'reawake! ButIcan'tusemyphonehere,soI'llberighback!" she shot gunned out, and then vanished. _Must be Judy's little sister … what was her name? Oh, yes, Elizabeth._ He closed his eyes, just to relax for a moment.

#

He opened his eyes again; it seemed as though only a few moments had passed, but clearly it had been some hours. The window looked out on a city night scene now. Nick tried to sit up in the bed, but something prevented it. _I can't be strapped down, can I?_ He managed to turn his head this time, and caught sight of Judy sitting by his bed, reading something on her phone.

"Hey, Carrots! Looks like the car convention is off. Did I win anything in the office lottery?" Nick managed to say, and he even managed a credible version of his trademarked smirk.

Judy turned towards him at the first croak of his voice. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. "You bastard!" she said.

"What did I do?" Nick croaked. "Water?"

"They said you could have a sponge, but nothing more," she said, lifting a sponge on a stick out of a glass by the bed and running it along the fox's lips. "Just enough to keep your lips and tongue moist. But they said you might choke on more." Judy's nose wiggled, and a tear crept down her cheek.

"Don't cry, Carrots. I guess you've not got rid of me yet…"

"Don't. Say. It." Judy said, her voice coming close to breaking.

"What day is today?"

"It's Friday, Nick."

"More water?" he asked, and the sponge was applied again. "So I got a week off?"

"Try twelve days. You've been in the shop since a week ago, Monday."

"Ouch!"

"Do you remember what you said?"

Nick managed to snort without ejecting the cannula. "I don't remember much else after the world landed on my chest. What **_did_** happen?"

"Your 'friend' Katrina fired a shotgun into your chest."

"Pellets? The dragonscale I was wearing should have even stopped double ought…"

"It was solid shot, Nick. Solid core with flechettes. Broke four ribs and punctured you left lung. I was afraid we were going to lose you – you were spitting up blood."

"McHorn and Profaci – are they ok? And more water?"

Judy applied the sponge again. "Not a scratch. But you had a lot of people worried. Clawhauser was all ready to make the calls…"

Nick even managed a short laugh. "So only the fox was in danger of triggering a car convention? Ok, the sawbones must have worked overtime on me. When do I get out of this place?"

"They said that you'd be in for at least another week. But the case is closed, now. And it's just as well that you didn't see what was in that brownstone," Judy said, and shuddered.

"Bad?"

"You don't know the half of it. After we finished up, McHorn threw up – outside the scene, so as to not contaminate the primary."

"McHorn? Mister Armored-Gut? How was Profaci?"

"He's been seeing the brainbow boys to get his head rewrapped."

"Sheesh! What about you? How are you doing, Carrots?"

"I've been having nightmares – but not about what we saw in that charnel house. I kept thinking about **_you_** Mister Go-Out-On-A-Cliffhanger! I kept thinking …"

Nick reached over and managed to stroke the rabbit's paw with his own. "Keep it up – thinking is good. But don't worry, I don't plan on leaving you any time soon. Have to keep my word. Water?"

Another application of the sponge followed.

"Where have you been sticking your sister … Elizabeth?"

"Ah … well … ummm…."

"Your apartment is kind of small…"

"Iputherupinyourapartmentjustwhileyouwereinhospital," Judy shot gunned out.

Nick laughed. "Now you're even sounding like her. Just have her clean out the fridge. By now I can just imagine what my leftovers will be trying to evolve."

"She said that you left a note…"

Nick bit his lip. "Please, don't read it, Carrots."

"Lizzie said that…"

"She was looking in my desk, and found an envelope addressed to you, 'if I am not around anymore'. That was meant for … if something happened to me on the job."

"I won't read it – but she said that…"

"I'd rather not hear what she had to say about my … attempted wordsmithing. Can we just forget about that letter?"

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," Judy said, and leaned over the fox, kissing him on the forehead. "She said that it was … 'poetic'."

The fox's ears flushed with blood.

"You're cute when you blush, Nick," she said, and kissed him a second time, this time on the mouth. "But I'd better stop," she said, as the heartbeat monitor began beeping louder. "For now, at least."

The overall arc, which began in **One Week In the Life** , and was continued in this story, **Another Step On the Path** , will be continued in a yet to be named (and written) story. For those who have enjoyed the run so far, it's not over until it's over.


End file.
